


Rebellions are Built on Hope

by etcetera_kit



Category: Super Sentai Series, 宇宙戦隊キュウレンジャー | Uchu Sentai Kyuranger
Genre: Episode Related, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Headcanon, M/M, Other, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2018-10-06 20:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 199,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10344087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetera_kit/pseuds/etcetera_kit
Summary: Stinger was not really interested in getting to know any of the Kyuurangers, except for maybe Naaga...





	1. Small Kindnesses

**Author's Note:**

> We're only five episodes in, and I cannot get Stinger or Naaga out of my head. Since none of the Kyuurangers know each other yet, I'm going with slow burn here. Enjoy!

1/ Small Kindnesses

As much as Stinger was glad that the deception was over—he no longer had to pretend to hate the Kyuurangers or be against their mission—he was not comfortable with the idea of hanging around on ORION-gou, eating Spada’s food and pretending to be a member of a family. He had a family who betrayed him with no warning and no reason. He did not want another family, especially not one led by Lucky and Shou Lonpou. Besides, Don Agamate had said something about there being a secret on Earth that the Kyuurangers should not find out, and that was as good a reason as any to remain on the surface. Stinger had no clues as to what he was looking for, and his cover with Jark Matter was blown, but there were other ways to get information.

His stomach rumbled irritably as he docked Sasori Voyager in ORION-gou, reminding him that he had not eaten yet that day. This late at night, everyone should be asleep. He quickly made his way from the docking bay to the living quarters—he had official quarters on the ship and his things were still there. He needed to get more of his clothes and surveillance equipment, among other things. He also did not relish the idea of finding some place on Earth to crash for the night. His home village had been tents on the ground, so sleeping outdoors didn’t bother him, but he didn’t have quite a sense for Earth yet, where would be safe. And he suspected Shou Lonpou, as much as the commander had loose rules and didn’t care about much, would mind if he started using Rebellion money to stay in a hotel.

So, here he was.

He’d get some food, gather his things, get four or five hours of sleep, and leave before anyone else woke up in the morning. He also wanted to avoid run-ins with particular Kyuurangers, especially Lucky and Champ. Lucky, because he really could not stand the man’s naïve, optimistic, over-enthusiastic approach to everything and everyone, and Champ, because he was fairly certain the robot would not understand what actually happened that night with Doctor Anton. 

The others were, well, there.

Shou Lonpou had given him details on each new Kyuuranger as they joined. Champ, he remembered from the night on Champ’s home planet. Spada was some chef from the Dorado galaxy. Hame was from the Chameleon galaxy, and was not forthcoming about her past. Then Lucky and Garou. Garou seemed like a stalwart, strong fighter. Lucky seemed irritating. And then the two picked up on the industrial planet, Balance and Naaga. Balance was a mechanical lifeform and fairly upbeat. Naaga was from a close-knit, closed-borders race of people that rarely interacted with the other worlds. And, Raptor, the Rebellion android, made eight. 

He was really not interested in any of them.

Except for maybe Naaga. 

When he’d told the group quickly that he was remaining on Earth and to call him if they needed anything, about half a dozen of them started to protest, Champ just huffed menacingly and Naaga said nothing. That clear gaze was damned eerie and made him feel vulnerable, like Naaga could see straight to the depths of his soul. Then the barest hint of a smile quirked Naaga’s lips—Stinger could have easily blinked and missed the smile—and Naaga nodded, eyes knowing. Balance, apparently ever the peace keeper, caught Naaga’s acceptance of his decision and immediately began to talk Lucky around, giving Stinger a perfect chance to make his escape.

The galley was dark, save for emergency lighting, and quiet. No one around. Perfect.

He found a sandwich and a bottled drink in the vast refrigerator. That would do. He’d survived on far worse and far less for a long time.

Shuffling around the galley door. 

Stinger swung around, already formulating an excuse based on who would be there.

He did not expect to see Naaga there.

The tension in his shoulders drained immediately. “Oh. You,” he muttered, gathering up his food and turning to leave towards his quarters.

“You’re back on the ship.” Naaga said the words slowly, as if he was not sure if he should say the sentence or not, like he didn’t know how small talk late at night went.

And hell, for all Stinger knew about his people, he might not.

“My things are here,” he replied simply. He paused and then added, “And I don’t really have a foxhole to crash in on Earth yet.”

Naaga nodded and stepped into the galley. He was wearing a gray t-shirt with blue cotton pajama bottoms. And slippers. Which produced the shuffling noise. Stinger might not have heard him at all had he been barefoot. Naaga’s expression was impassive, difficult to read.

“Is that all the food you’re taking?”

The question was simple, stark and surprising. 

“Yes,” he replied, but the word came out more like a question than a statement. He’d never given any thought before to how much food he was taking. Naaga’s question had not been an accusation of taking too much, but rather a concern that he was not taking enough.

“Are you going to come back here tomorrow night?”

Naaga was staring at him, intense and unnerving, even in the low light. Why the hell was he second-guessing himself when all Naaga had done was utter three sentences?

“Most likely,” he replied slowly. And then, “It takes time to come up with a safe house. And since Jark Matter has it out for me especially, even more time.”

“So you will be coming back here at night for a while?”

“Probably.”

Naaga nodded slightly and walked across the galley, around Stinger and to the fridge. He quickly assessed the food available and started picking out, what Stinger recognized belatedly as, meals. Stinger was amazed at the way he quickly and efficiently put together simple meals that appeared to be healthy and things that would be fine at any temperature, meaning he didn’t have to worry about cooling or heating any of the items. He could just carry them in a pack all day.

Naaga must have caught his stunned expression, because he offered, “Spada likes to make fancy food. My people do not spend time on that and just make food to satisfy nutritional needs.”

He didn’t know that Spada had anything to do with it, other than to be a point of comparison where there did not need to be one. Naaga put all the food into a cloth carrying bag and handed the bag to Stinger. He accepted the bag with a nod.

A person from a race like Naaga’s did not leave their home, at least not willingly or without extraordinary reasons. Shou Lonpou said that Naaga had been working with Balance as a thief, stealing from Jark Matter. That did not seem like something he would just choose to do, and especially leave home to do so. Jark Matter had likely taken over Naaga’s home planet too. But how could someone from a race with almost no emotions leave and start actively working against the people who invaded his home?

On second thought, maybe Naaga becoming a thief who stole from Jark Matter wasn’t that far-fetched after all.

“I won’t tell the others you were here,” Naaga said softly.

Stinger blinked. “Oh, uh… thanks.”

Naaga nodded and started to walk out of the galley.

“Naaga?”

The other man stopped and turned, expression neutral.

“Why did you do it? Start fighting Jark Matter?”

He wasn’t sure why he blurted the question, but he did. For the first time, he saw a real emotion cross Naaga’s face. Not the times he seemed to be imitating other people, looking for clues on how to react to something. (Stinger hadn’t been around him much, but had seen that very clear.) There was true anger on his face. His voice was low and tight when he spoke.

“My home was peaceful. We had no wars, no violence, no fighting. Everyone shared everything equally. Everyone helped with everything. Jark Matter came and destroyed everything we built. I escaped the planet with some others, but we were separated. Jark Matter was everywhere. I couldn’t do nothing.”

_You knew something had to be done, even if you didn’t have the emotions to describe or justify it. That’s why the KyuuTama chose you. The moment you started to not blindly follow and stood by a friend, the KyuuTama came to you._

Shou Lonpou had shared how Naaga and Balance got their KyuuTamas. Lucky, the others, even Balance and Naaga themselves, might not recognize why the KyuuTamas came to them. Kyuu Energy did not respond to strength and ability. The energy recognized people wanting to help others, save others, make the galaxy a better place—those willing to put someone else, even someone practically a stranger, before themselves.

His own KyuuTama had come to him shortly after his brother left their village. The brother that he had known and loved and grown up with would not have just betrayed him to Jark Matter. He would have fought to the bitter end. Something had happened. He needed to find out what happened to his brother. And in finding out what happened to his brother, he’d be undoing a lot of the Jark Matter damage his own family had done. He didn’t know if he’d be able to save Scorpio, or if he’d have to stop him. Didn’t matter. He needed Jark Matter gone—for taking his brother and his home, and for taking so many other people’s families and homes. So the KyuuTama chose him.

“You were the first Kyuuranger, weren’t you?”

The question should have surprised him, but did not. “Yes,” he replied simply.

Naaga gave him a piercing look, assessing him. “Champ believed you were evil. Lucky told him all along there was more than what he saw—a KyuuTama would not choose someone who would murder another being in cold blood.”

The words were spoken neutrally and with little inflection, but maybe, with Naaga, the words themselves were what mattered and not the way he said them. He was repeating something he had clearly overhead Lucky and Champ argue about multiple times. Naaga did not seem like a person to repeat something just because he overhead the information, but more, like he was repeating the story because he agreed with Lucky, because he thought it was true. 

Stinger let out a long breath. “I will not explain myself.”

Naaga nodded slightly. “I know.” A pause, and then, “Why are you fighting?”

“What?”

“You asked me why I started fighting. I told you. I want to know why you are fighting.” No accusation in Naaga’s voice or questions, no assumed quid pro quo. Just a question. Maybe curiosity or a deeper desire to know, but still just a question. Of everyone here, Naaga might understand if he choose not to answer.

And he could just not answer. He could thank Naaga again for the food and walk straight out of the galley, to his quarters and collapse onto his bed for a few hours sleep. He could put Naaga completely out of his mind and only interact with him when missions or battles needed him. But he didn’t want to, really did not want to. Naaga was someone who could be brushed aside as a weirdo, the relatively quiet guy in the background that did not make a commotion. He was trying to learn about emotions, trying to gain them, but because he knew no social cues based on emotions, the others could write him off… or make him the butt of the joke. None of that would be intentional, but Naaga would hurt all the same, and not really know why he felt out of place or alone.

“My older brother,” he answered simply. “He’s been missing since Jark Matter invaded our home planet and I am looking for him.” The truth. Not the whole truth, but enough.

Naaga nodded. “Did he join Jark Matter?”

Stinger blinked. How in the hell did Naaga figure _that_ out? “Yes,” he said without elaboration.

“I’m sorry.”

And weirdly, despite the flat tone and neutral expression, Stinger felt that he really was sorry. There wasn’t much more to say on the topic, so Stinger just offered a tight smile of reassurance and walked out of the galley, pausing to squeeze Naaga’s shoulder on the way out. Naaga might not know what any of that meant, but he’d clearly figured out that Stinger would rather talk to him than any of the others, including Shou Lonpou. 

He could feel Naaga’s gaze boring into him as he walked down the hallway and rounded the corner. He opened the door to his quarters, and the lights automatically came on. Exactly as he left the place. He’d left anything that would identify him as a member of Rebellion here when he went undercover in the first place, and his jacket was right where he left it, hanging off his desk chair. He locked the door to his room and gathered his things to shower. The morning would get here before he knew it, and he needed at least some sleep.

\-------------------

His alarm did not wake him the next morning, but rather the artificial sunlight that came on in the living quarters at sunrise for whatever planet they were on and slowly got brighter to wake them up naturally, if needed. Stinger never slept in or stayed asleep for long, which explained the utter panic when he realized the time. He’d set an alarm! He should have been out of here three hours ago! Now everyone would be awake and he’d never be able to sneak out unseen.

Luckily, he’d put on clean clothes last night before dropping into bed, so all he really needed to do was put on his shoes and jacket, grab his pack and leave. He threw the covers off himself and sat up in the same motion. (The duvet was black with orange stitching—Shou Lonpou and Raptor had a penchant for color-coordinating things, and he doubted that had gone away with the appearance of more Kyuurangers. Thankfully, Raptor seemed to get that bright orange blankets were not exactly the stuff of soothing sleep.)

He blinked.

Naaga was in his room. Staring at him.

Mind still sleep-fogged, he scrambled up so he was standing on his bed.

“The door was locked.” His voice sounded groggy and non-assertive. At least not as assertive as he needed to be this morning.

“Balance showed me how to override the locks our first day here.” Naaga relayed the piece of information like he was just reciting the weather on Earth.

“What?” Stinger floundered for a minute, before blurting out, “Did you turn off my alarm?”

Naaga nodded.

“The alarm is in my Seiza Blaster! You can’t get into someone else’s…” Unless Balance could. “Did Balance show you how to override other people’s Seiza Blasters too?” Dammit, they needed better security protocols that a mechanical lifeform couldn’t get around. Champ and Raptor were robots, and didn’t hack things they weren’t programmed to. But Balance was another issue—he was mechanical but free thinking and clearly able to hack anything.

He dropped down to his knees on his bed, and then swung his legs out from under him and over the edge of the bed. He sighed. 

“Why?”

“You needed the sleep.”

Stinger grabbed his boots and began shoving his feet into them. “I needed to get out of here before the others knew I was here last night. I can’t do the happy team thing yet.”

“Yet?”

Shit, shit, shit. Just trust Naaga to pick up on the one qualifying word anyone else would have not even heard.

“You could help balance Shou Lonpou and Lucky.” Naaga said the words like he was formulating how Stinger would work into their dynamics, not like he had arrived at a final conclusion.

“Shou Lonpou has been a Rebellion Commander for a long time. He acts flippant, but he knows what he’s doing.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“When he’s being weird, just have Balance hack the database.” He finished putting on his boots and grabbed his jacket from where he’d relocated it to the foot of his bed. He then noticed that Naaga had a small travel-pack of hot food on his desk. He looked pointedly at it and then prompted, “Naaga?”

“I thought you might want hot breakfast on your way back to Earth.”

That was… thoughtful. A kindness. A small kindness, but weren’t the most extraordinary things found in everyday small gestures?

Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders. Naaga didn’t know. He just didn’t know, because his people would have done something like this out of practicality. He didn’t know the rest of the galaxy just let each other run themselves into the ground.

“Thank you,” he said softly. Then added, “And you really shouldn’t hack other people’s doors or Seiza Blasters unless there is an actual emergency.”

“Lack of adequate sleep can cause your body functions to—“

“I know, Naaga. Just…” He searched for a way to parse any of this. “How about you don’t tell the others you know how to override this stuff? And just keep the actual overriding to my stuff or Balance’s?” And why in the hell did he just give Naaga permission to break into his quarters and hack his stuff? Because Naaga wasn’t telling anyone else what he found? Because Naaga would likely not be shocked by anything he found?

“I only did it because you were putting yourself in danger.”

Because as far as Naaga was concerned, purposely not getting enough sleep qualified as someone putting themselves in danger. Hell, Stinger had jumped in front of blasters and explosions and bullets and gone after beings he knew he could not beat. That was putting himself in danger. Crashing for only a few hours every night was prudent, precautionary. But someone like Naaga would not see the difference.

A kindness.

“Okay, Naaga,” he said as he put on his jacket and grabbed his pack. “Since you decided I needed to sleep, how am I getting out of here without everyone knowing I was here?”

“They are all in the galley making pancakes. They only started a few minutes before you woke up. You can go down the back way to the docking bay and not pass them at all.”

“Won’t they notice you’re missing?”

“I don’t like pancakes.”

Noted. Naaga stood up and handed him the travel pack of food. He accepted the pack. “What’s in here?” he felt the need to ask.

“Bread, eggs, bacon, fruit, black coffee.” No pancakes.

“Thanks,” he replied.

Naaga nodded. “You’re welcome. I’ll make sure they save some hot dinner tonight, so that way you don’t have to eat a cold sandwich.” Naaga might not see the point in fancy food, but he definitely valued warm food over cold food.

“See you tonight,” Stinger replied, leaving his room. Naaga followed him into the hallway. They listened for a moment. Everyone was clearly in the galley. No stray voices in the living quarters. 

Naaga gave him a small wave as he headed down to the docking bay. Why had he even told Naaga he’d be back tonight? Between the breakfast and all the food Naaga had packed last night, he didn’t need to come back to the ship until tomorrow night at the earliest. Maybe he was looking forward to talking to someone who wasn’t Jark Matter or stupid enthusiastic. 

Maybe.


	2. Across the Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People brought… chaos… and emotions… and reactions that Naaga could not understand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I forgot to mention with the first chapter, the title of this piece is shamelessly ripped off from Rogue One (but fit so perfectly!) The first chapter is set shortly after Space 5, and this chapter is set shortly after Space 7. Enjoy!

**2/ Across the Universe**

Naaga scrolled through the archive files on the main database, focusing on mission reports and footage. Most things were clearly labeled and available on the public server, but other things—like reports confirming or denying Shou Lonpou’s ridiculous tales—were on a secure server. Balance had shown him some simple ways to hack a password or spoof someone with clearance to get onto the server. Naaga knew how to keep people out of a system, not as familiar with the other way around. As a Rebellion android, Raptor had access to everything in the database, so Naaga was currently logged in as her. (More accurately, he was making the system think he was her.)

The galley was dark, save for the emergency lighting, and devoid of other people. That was fine. Naaga liked the calm and the quiet and the low light. People brought… chaos… and emotions… and reactions that he could not understand.

Like birthdays, he reflected as he scrolled through mission reports on the datapad. His people knew the date of their birth. That was important for tracking cognitive readiness for a number of tasks and measuring development goals. When he grew another year older, he did not think of that date as a time for celebration with friends, but rather, another benchmark towards taking on a new or different set of responsibilities. His people finished their formal education at age eighteen, and spent three years training towards an occupation. Naaga had almost completed his training to become a security officer, both cyber and hand-to-hand. Almost. Because three weeks before the completion and ceremony, Jark Matter had attacked. He spent his twenty-first birthday and the date of the ceremony on the run with a few others. They got separated in the Chameleon galaxy and he ended up stranded in Jigama, where he met Balance.

He and Balance had known each other for eight months. In that time, Balance never brought up his birthday, but he clearly cared about the celebration. Naaga did not understand the fuss, even after Lucky explained some of the reasoning. But, he thought logically, Balance was his friend and if a birthday celebration was important to him, then Naaga would participate. Because, he was learning, friends did that for one another.

“I’ve got it!” came Stinger’s voice from the hall, raised slightly and angry. No, not angry. Irritated. The galley doors opened and Stinger huffed in frustration as he came into the room.

Naaga looked up from the datapad. Stinger stopped just inside the door, focused on Naaga for a moment, and made a noise that could really only be described as relief. 

“What was that?” Naaga asked, genuinely interested. Stinger had been sneaking back onto the ship for about a week and leaving again early in the morning. Naaga had taken to making sure some dinner was left for him and putting together some simple meals for on the surface. They’d fallen quite easily into a routine. Stinger answered his questions honestly, but didn’t try to get him to change or try emotions or any of the other things that Balance or Lucky seemed to ask of him. Naaga would stay up to make sure Stinger got back and make sure he got his food—and they had a chance to talk. Stinger just listened and did not expect him to already know about emotions and human traditions, and Naaga felt better asking him questions than the others. He didn’t feel like an outsider when Stinger answered his questions. And then Stinger had come back formally, because he needed to report on Madaako and Ikaagen. 

Even though Stinger had been more like an official resident on the ship for a few days, he still avoided meal times and crowds. At Balance’s birthday party, he’d mostly been to the side, not really participating, mind clearly somewhere else. 

“Shou Lonpou,” Stinger replied darkly. 

Naaga did not ask for clarification and Stinger did not offer any. Shou Lonpou was not Naaga’s favorite person—he found him to be untrustworthy as he exaggerated details or took credit for things that were just happenstance. Naaga imagined that Shou Lonpou would make someone like Stinger angry, in spite of the times Stinger told Naaga that Shou Lonpou had experience. A time when someone’s words did not match their emotions.

The galley doors slid shut behind Stinger. He let out a long breath and then walked towards the fridge in the galley.

“Your dinner is in the warmer,” Naaga said.

Stinger’s eyes softened a little. “Thank you,” he said simply. Since Stinger missed so many meal times, Naaga saved food for him automatically, and had even caught himself thinking to save food from a meal that Stinger attended. Balance or Lucky would tell him that he did that because Stinger was his friend and he cared about him. Naaga was not sure, because he was not positive he would have thought to save food for anyone else on the team, even Balance.

Naaga went back to scrolling through the files, while Stinger got his food and sat across the table from him. Stinger was from a desert planet. He hadn’t said much about his home world or living there. All he had shared was his older brother joined Jark Matter, and he had no answers. Stinger carried a pendant with him that Naaga had seen one evening. Stinger just said the pendant had belonged to his brother, and his brother gave him the pendant before he went away for training. Like most of the people on Stinger’s planet, his brother had gone off to fight the Jark Matter invasion. Over the years, his brother came home as often as he could, but when Jark Matter actually invaded the planet, that’s when Stinger learned his brother had joined them.

From the little he had said, Stinger seemed certain that his brother would not have just betrayed their entire planet, not without something happening. Something big. Stinger didn’t talk much about his brother, and Naaga supposed that thinking about his brother was upsetting. 

They fell into a comfortable silence as Stinger ate and Naaga tried to find something that would confirm that Shou Lonpou and Pega-san had actually defeated a monster. Nothing so far. Naaga rubbed his eyes. Balance would have been much, much faster at this, but the mechanical lifeform did not share his distrust of Shou Lonpou and generally liked being on the ship and being a Kyuuranger. He’d said before that he didn’t want to do anything to mess things up. He put the datapad down on the table. Stinger was almost done eating—he tended to eat quickly and efficiently, like he never had time to enjoy food. Well, that was something Spada insisted was a good thing. Naaga didn’t follow.

“Why are birthdays important?”

Stinger looked up at him, swallowing the last bite of food. He put down his chopsticks, still focused on Naaga and the question. After a long moment, he replied, “Didn’t Lucky explain that to you?”

“Yes, but I still don’t really understand.” He paused. “It was important to Balance, so I wanted to be a good friend to him. But still…”

“Look,” Stinger replied, reaching for his bottle of water, “Birthdays aren’t a big deal on my home planet, so I’m not sure what all the fuss is about either.”

Naaga felt… relief… shoot through him. Someone else did not understand. He never realized having a kindred spirit would feel so… good. “Do your people know when they were born?”

“Sure,” Stinger replied, no judgment in his tone. He just sounded like he was giving information and was fine with doing so. “Most people know, a few only have an approximate time.” He paused. “We had to know, especially with the minimum age to join the military and fight Jark Matter.”

Naaga nodded. That was practical reason for knowing a date of birth.

Stinger took a sip of water. “What about your people?”

“Yes,” Naaga responded. “We have school and training and developmental goals—we had to know how old someone was and if they were meeting those goals.”

“Training?” Stinger sounded interested in that.

Naaga nodded again. “I was training to be a security officer.” He paused. “Did you all have school?”

“Not nearly as formal as your planet.” Stinger paused, setting the water bottle completely down on the table. “I’m from a desert planet and we were fighting Jark Matter for a long time—fighting and surviving became more important once you got older.”

At times, Naaga intensely missed his home planet before Jark Matter had invaded. Everything had been peaceful and equal and made sense. No one had unexpected reactions to anything. Everything was planned and thought out. Everyone helped one another. Not like now with Jark Matter and not like other planets before Jark Matter invaded. 

And now, he’d seen so many people with emotions, been to more planets, wanted to learn about the other people, but couldn’t relate to them without emotions or, at least, without understanding the emotions. As much as he intensely missed home, he knew that if he continued gaining emotions, he wouldn’t be able to go home. He wouldn’t be welcomed amongst his people anymore. He knew how he felt about that… sad… devastated… but nothing could be done. He was a Kyuuranger and set on this path. He couldn’t return to his old life and his old path.

He wondered, sometimes, if the others felt the same.

“Do you ever want to go home?” Naaga was not sure why he phrased the question that way.

Stinger was thoughtful for a moment, eyes distant. The same as he looked during Balance’s birthday party—physically present, but so far away. “Sometimes,” Stinger replied carefully. “We had to fight to survive, but my brother was there. Our parents died when I was really young, so he practically raised me. I was pretty happy as a kid.” He smiled a little. “We had festivals and celebrations, seasonal mostly, and I had people who cared about me.” His expression darkened. “There’s really nothing there for me anymore.” 

He gazed off into the distance for a moment, before turning back towards Naaga.

“What about you? I imagine you’d want to go home.”

Naaga shook his head. “I can’t.” He felt a lump in the back of his throat and his eyes stung a little. The thought of not going home was sad, so his body was reacting to his sadness? What? “I’ve gained too much emotion. They wouldn’t accept me.”

“You’ve gained too much emotion?” Stinger replied, incredulous. 

Naaga nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He’d never cried before in his life—was this was crying felt like? If so, he didn’t like it at all. 

Stinger reached out and placed a hand over his wrist. The gesture was meant to be comforting, Naaga knew, and, strangely, he did feel comforted just by having Stinger give him that simple touch. “I’m sorry,” Stinger said softly. “That’s really hard.”

Stinger squeezed his wrist gently before letting go. Naaga nodded quickly, rubbing his eyes. He now was starting to understand why people chose to hid their emotions. 

“It’s not all bad,” Stinger added. “You all got to meet each other.” Stinger stood up to take his dishes to the cleaner.

“I met you,” Naaga replied softly. 

Stinger smiled softly again and nodded. Naaga liked his smile—he never smiled in front of the others, was so serious and only said what he needed to. But his smile softened his entire face, made him look at ease, relaxed… joyful. Perhaps he knew how rare those smiles were, so they were a different kind of treasure, not the jewels or money that he helped steal with Balance. Not all treasure was gold… he could understand why people valued their friends. 

After he put his dishes away, Stinger seemed like he might walk out of the galley. Late enough that the others would not be in the common bathing areas, so Stinger could be alone. Also late enough that he might just be going to bed. 

So Naaga blurted the question, “Are we friends?”

Stinger stopped and looked at him, fixing him with a singularly intense gaze. Naaga fought the urge to squirm under that gaze. Stinger walked back to the table and sat down across from him once more. “Yes,” he finally replied. “You don’t have someone keeping your secrets and getting you food without considering them a friend.”

“Good,” Naaga replied, voice halting. “I’m glad.”

Stinger frowned a little, then said, “This whole birthday thing really upset you, didn’t it?”

Naaga looked up quickly, and then away. “Why would I be upset?” Hiding emotions, for the second time in only a few minutes.

“You didn’t understand, and Balance was hurt because you tried to approach it logically.” Stinger shrugged. His voice was lower when he then said, “And Lucky’s stupid idea for a present for Balance.”

“Balance thought it was good,” Naaga responded, but without any ire to defend the present. Naaga still did not quite understand why smiling and being happy to Balance was as good as an actual present, but everyone seemed to think so, including Balance.

Stinger shook his head. “Lucky was thinking about Balance, not you.” He ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “You defeated the governor, went to the party, Lucky should have just left it alone at that or had Spada or Garou go to the surface and buy something. But no, Lucky wants everyone to become friends in a minute.”

Naaga was not sure if Stinger was still talking to him or just to himself.

“I was fine with it,” he said softly.

“Really?”

He looked away again. He had not been comfortable with the idea, but went along with it and his friend even like the present. So what was the harm? 

“No,” he replied after what felt like a very long time. “I don’t know how to be happy about something, so I just did what they said was the right thing.”

Stinger let out a long breath. “You can tell them no.”

“I know.”

“Even if you don’t understand, it doesn’t mean you have to go along with it.”

“It’s fine, Stinger.” More half-truths.

Stinger stood up and paused for a moment. He then said, “I was going to go down to the docking bay for a while. Want to come with me?”

Naaga logged off the datapad and stood up. “What are you doing down there?” Could be any number of things, including maintenance on the Voyagers. 

“I go down there to think.”

They fell into another comfortable silence as they walked out of the galley and down the hall. Naaga noted that Stinger purposely took a circuitous route that avoided going past the living quarters and other common areas where the others might be at this time of night. Distantly, he could hear the others talking and laughing and playing games. They particularly loved to play card games, which Naaga did not understand. A large portion of card games relied on chance, giving the players an unequal opportunity. Why would anyone want to play a game where all the players did not have the same advantage?

The docking bay was empty when they got there. Stinger walked by SasoriVoyager and to a control panel. He punched a few buttons and the shades opened, but the dock doors remained closed. 

Naaga walked towards the doors. The view was indescribable—they could see the Earth, but also lots of stars, sprinkled across a black sky, most of them with systems and planets and life. He felt… small… next to that view. 

Stinger sat down on the floor near the doors and motioned for Naaga to do the same. He sat close, maybe too close depending on the standards of the planet, but Stinger did not seem uncomfortable.

“Jark Matter has taken over most of these systems?”

“Some. Not all of them.” Stinger nudged him gently. “Don’t think about that. Just look at the view, at this vast galaxy we get to live in.” A pause, and then, “The KyuuTamas chose us, out of everyone, to save the galaxy.”

Naaga followed Stinger’s gaze back to the stars. So many.

He liked this, the quiet, the only sound their soft breathing, the stillness. Their knees and shoulders brushed every so often. This was calming, centering… being away from the noise and light, and just _being_ with one person. Maybe Stinger didn’t fully understand him, but Stinger also did not want him to change.

Across the vast universe, that small thought gave Naaga hope.


	3. Stronger Than Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stinger limped down the hall of the ship, not really caring if he ran into anyone, just wanting to go back to his bed, collapse and stare into the darkness, because he was not sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set directly after Space 9. Enjoy!
> 
> Please forgive any scientific inaccuracies. I went to school for liberal arts, not science. And Google only helps me so much.
> 
> (The more I think about how fast all these extra Kyuurangers are coming, the more I am convinced Scorpio is coming back soon, and we'll get lots of team angst, and Stinger trying to go off alone and whatnot. Woo!)

**3/ Stronger Than Fear**  
_Hope is the only thing stronger than fear._

Stinger _hurt._

Ikaagen and Maadako were well-known, fearsome Jark Matter assassins. That alone should have given him pause before rushing to Garou’s and Raptor’s aid. Not that he would have willingly abandoned the other Kyuurangers and left them to their fate, but he might have been better served to help Lucky, Spada and Hame defeat the governor quickly, and then gone in with four instead of just himself. He didn’t remember much of what happened during the fight, just that he almost cornered Maadako before Ikaagen stepped in.  


The pair were not content to just best an opponent in battle—they had to defeat someone every way they could imagine. Raptor was an android and had gone into deep hibernation mode, meaning they weren’t waking her up or getting a reaction out of her. Her Kyuutama prevented them from attempting to disassemble her. Garou was from a lupine race that healed quickly, showed few injuries, and practiced deep meditation techniques, meaning Garou was also not giving the pair any reaction while they waited for more Kyuurangers to show up.

That left Stinger.

He was used to harsh environments, scrambling just to survive. On his home planet, they fought nature, predators and scavengers, not to mention the battles in space against Jark Matter. Fighting and pain were old friends. But even then, he never mastered his reactions during extreme pain—normal battles and fighting he could manage. Even when Elidron took a staff to him, he only gritted his teeth and went where the momentum took him, no crying out. 

But Ikaagen and Maadako were different. Ikaagen seemed to like watching pain inflicted on others. Maadako liked to deal the blows. He was down and not getting up, barely conscious, and she still kicked his ribs and sides until drawing a breath hurt. He was no healer or doctor, but he knew when ribs were breaking and if she kept going, he’d end up with a collapsed lung, internal bleeding and ultimately choke to death on his own blood. But she seemed to know when death would come, so she moved on to his lower back and hips, and finished her attack off with a few punishing blows to his crotch and dug her heel into his tail. He was curled on the ground in a fetal position, tears streaming down his cheeks, unable to move or defend himself, entire body on fire. Knocking him out again was the only kindness from them.

And now, he limped down the hall of the ship, not really caring if he ran into anyone, just wanting to go back to his bed, collapse and stare into the darkness, because he was not sleeping.

Raptor had done a scan when they all got back to the ship the day before, and mended his three cracked ribs quickly in a medical pod. The bruising would need to heal naturally. Luckily, she didn’t make him remove any clothing for the scan, so she hadn’t seen how bad the bruising actually was. Not that he was sure he could take off any of his clothes at this point in time. He’d taken painkillers last night and they had done nothing, so he had not slept last night. Then he further didn’t help himself by going after Shou Lonpou and Lucky, and continuing to fight. Small mercy that Shou Lonpou had defeated Maadako, for now. His last resort tonight was a few cold packs from a first aid kit, pressed against whatever was screaming the most. 

And at least Shou Lonpou and Hame had taken responsibility for Kotarou, without asking questions of him (although he suspected Shou Lonpou had talked to Kotarou and gotten the story out of the boy himself.) The kid was more than capable of taking care of himself, so Stinger didn’t feel the need to hover or make sure he was okay. Besides, Shou Lonpou and Hame had that covered. And, hell, Stinger was not even sure what he had been thinking when he brought Kotarou here.

“Stinger?”

He blinked. Naaga. He hadn’t realized that he started leaning against the wall and had pretty much ceased walking towards his room. Naaga had a bruised cheek from some falling rocks when he, Balance and Champ had gone to retrieve the new Kyuutama. 

“Are you all right?” Naaga looked impassive, but stepped closer.

Stinger pushed himself off the wall and was proud that he only swayed a little. He took a step forward. “I’m fine,” he said as clearly as he could. 

“You’re not.”

Why even attempt to lie to Naaga? There was no point. Naaga saw through everything. “No,” he agreed. “I’m not.” He swayed a little more. “But Raptor says there’s no permanent damage.”

Naaga narrowed his eyes. “That is true, but you also need to rest in order to fully heal.”

“That’s where I’m going.”

“Did Raptor have you take any painkillers?”

He nodded, and named a medication and dosage. He didn’t want to take anything stronger, because those drugs would knock him and made him feel fuzzy when he woke up. He hated being that vulnerable and that unaware. He didn’t say that to Naaga. Naaga would probably guess.

“That’s not enough,” Naaga replied. “You won’t be able to sleep, so your body won’t be able to heal.”

“I’m not taking that stuff,” Stinger replied, stumbling a little.

Naaga reached out to steady him. They had never actually been this oddly close before. Naaga wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him and moved his other arm to his own shoulders. Naaga might have looked slight, but his body was lean muscle under his jacket. His skin felt cool against Stinger’s own heated skin. 

He had no idea when or how Naaga had wormed his way under his skin, under his defenses. He would admit, he had a soft spot for Naaga. The other man tried to understand emotions and the traditions that came with emotions, and he was slowly learning, but Stinger still found himself silently seething when the others steamrolled Naaga with their ideas or wants. Naaga was relatively quiet and, when the others weren’t imposing their own idea of emotions on him, they ignored him. Not intentionally, but still. And Stinger included Balance in that crowd—Balance, the one person here who should know Naaga better than anyone and understand his idiosyncrasies. And why the hell were his thoughts straying to what Naaga might look like under his clothes, and how soft his lips might be? Had to be the pain talking. (He didn’t want to consider what would be meant if those thoughts were still around after he healed.) Don’t get involved was usually his motto, but fuck it, who cared? He was doing terrible at that anyway. They were either destroying Jark Matter or dying spectacularly trying, so why not have a few steamy thoughts about a teammate? 

“You didn’t eat dinner either,” Naaga said. Not a question, a fact.

Naaga let out a barely perceptible long breath. Stinger only caught the exhale because he was currently putting almost his entire body weight on Naaga. 

“You need to get in bed,” Naaga said, “And then you need food, water and medication.”

“Naaga—“

“Trust me, please.” Stinger met Naaga’s gaze. Naaga’s expression had softened a little. He was definitely concerned. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Stinger was not sure Naaga knew what he was protecting him from, or even what he might actually be afraid of from the stronger meds, but just hearing Naaga say the words comforted him way more than it should have. Naaga was a strong fighter, knew how to defend himself and his friends. He did not quite have the battle-hardened edge that Stinger did, but that would come. The more they fought Jark Matter, the more Naaga would become a warrior. 

“Fine,” he grumbled.

He allowed Naaga to lead him down the hall to his room. They only passed Spada on the way, and the chef merely raised an eyebrow slightly. He said nothing.

His room was dark, save for the emergency lighting. Naaga did not turn on the overhead lights, just the small lamp on his nightstand. With a quick, efficient wrist motion, he pulled the covers on his bed back and gently lowered Stinger onto the bed.

“Where are your pajamas?”

Stinger blinked. “What?”

“Your pajamas.” Naaga frowned a little. “You don’t sleep in that usually, do you?”

Now was not the time to mention that he often did, sans the jacket and boots, and Naaga knew that perfectly well. However, the other man seemed to know that he actually did behave like a real human being sometimes and not a paranoid spy, meaning he had such pedestrian things as pajamas. 

Stinger motioned to the pair of loose black athletic pants at the foot of his bed. Naaga picked up the garment. “Do you have a shirt?”

He shook his head.

“Can you get undressed?” The question held no judgment, just a simple assessment of information, which would then provide Naaga with his next steps.

“Who knows?” Stinger tried to shrug, but one of his shoulders has been dislocated and now trying to move the shoulder caused him to wince in pain.

Naaga nodded, eyes narrowing slightly. He started with the obvious—he unbuckled his Seiza Blaster from his wrist and set it on the nightstand. A quick grab in the inside pocket of his jacket produced his Kyuutama, which went to join the blaster. Naaga then moved behind him and eased his jacket off his shoulders. Stinger could not help the forceful exhale and closed eyes that went with his jacket. The scarf was easy. 

He looked up as Naaga stood in front of him again. “Can you hold your arms in front of you?”

Stinger nodded, closing his eyes and willing himself not to cry out. Because he closed his eyes, he was not entirely certain how Naaga managed the entire process, but he felt Naaga reach over his shoulders and grasp the bottom back hem of his shirt and undershirt, and pull both over his head and down his arms in one quick, efficient motion. He lowered his arms, dropping them like dead weight, only marginally aware that Naaga had never seen him this undressed before. He was now bare from the waist up. Not that he was self-conscious about the way he looked, he just didn’t normally undress in front of others.

“Lay down,” Naaga instructed.

Stinger did his best to comply, awkwardly heaving himself more onto his bed. His head was on his pillow, which had to be a step in the right direction. He felt Naaga undoing and pulling off his boots, followed by his socks. He then felt Naaga move up, undoing his belt buckle. He ached all over and really did not have a quip or sarcastic comment about being taken advantage of in him. “Try to lift your hips a little,” Naaga said softly. He did the best he could with that request, especially considering that Madaako had attacked his hips and lower back. Naaga, for his part, was quick and efficient, removing his pants and shorts in one go. 

And now he was naked in front of Naaga. Great. At least most of his body was aching and on fire meaning there was no awkward hard-on. And now Naaga could see exactly the extent of the bruising and Stinger knew he had an impressive bruise blooming across his hipbone. 

But Naaga did not let him lay there naked for any more time than necessary. He got the loose pants he wore to bed on quickly, only giving him the soft instruction to lift his hips again. He was not sure how well he complied, but Naaga managed anyways and, before he knew it, the pants were where they belonged and Naaga even tied the drawstring. Naaga helped him get his legs completely under the covers and then drew them up to his waist. 

“I’m going to get the proper medication and dosage for the extent of your injuries,” Naaga said quietly. “I will also go get some food and water. You cannot take that medication on an empty stomach.”

Stinger grabbed Naaga’s wrist as he started to move towards the door. “Thank you,” he said faintly. The barest trace of a smile tugged at Naaga’s lips. Gods, that smile, if Stinger ever saw the real full thing, would be brilliant. 

\-------------------

He jerked awake in the dead middle of the night, unsure of when he actually went to sleep. He glanced to his nightstand. A bottle of water and another dosage of pain medication had been placed directly in his line of sight. A few hours of deep sleep had done wonders already, only the worst injuries still screaming at him. Everything else had faded to the ghost of an ache. But he knew he could not rush things and would need to take more of the medication and go back to sleep. He struggled to push himself into a sitting position and then he glanced around the room.

Naaga was sleeping on the floor next to his bed. 

What?

He blinked again. No, there was not a mistake. Naaga was sleeping on the floor. He was wearing his own pajamas—the worn out gray t-shirt and blue cotton pajama pants. He hadn’t even brought an air mattress or sleeping bag, just what appeared to be the blanket and pillow from his own bed. The quilt was silver and white, and vaguely reminded Stinger of something his caretaker (when his brother had been off-planet) would have liked. Even with his slippers, that Stinger could see peeking out from the end of the blanket, Naaga had to be freezing on the floor.

Naaga opened his eyes as Stinger belatedly realized how much shuffling noise he was making. “You’re awake.” Naaga looked at the clock above the door. “Good. It’s time for more medication.”

Stinger just grabbed the water bottle and the pills, holding them up so Naaga knew he was going to take them. He put the pills in his mouth, and quickly swallowed them down with water. He then drank more water, chasing away the bitterness of the pills. Now, he only had a very short amount of time before the pills knocked him out again. 

“Aren’t you cold?”

Naaga shivered a little, but also shrugged. “This is fine. I’ve been colder.”

“Naaga, I’m fine. You should go to your own bed.”

Another shrug with no facial expression or tone to interpret what was meant. “I said I would not let anything happen to you.”

“I know. I just—“ Time to switch tactics. Naaga made a promise, which meant he was going nowhere. “If you’re going to stay here, you won’t protect anyone freezing to death on the floor.” Stinger purposely moved over in bed, making room for another person. The single bed was not really going to be conducive to two people comfortably sleeping there, but he’d slept in tighter quarters and at least Naaga would then be warm. “You have to sleep in the bed.”

“With you.” Not a question and Naaga did not sound confused, like he sometimes did when he felt like he was breaking a taboo. “Is that… okay?” Well, maybe he marginally knew that most people did not just share a bed. 

“It’s fine. We’re friends, right?” Stinger patted the empty spot he’d created in the bed. “Hurry up so we can get comfortable before these pills knock me out again.”

Naaga put his blanket at the foot of the bed and then picked up his pillow. Stinger purposely moved his own pillow to the side, letting Naaga put the pillow down. The other man hesitated a little, one knee on the bed, not sure if he should go further.

“Hurry up,” Stinger prodded him again, hoping there was no annoyance in his tone. He held the covers up, so Naaga would be able to get under them. 

Luckily, Naaga decided to stop analyzing the situation and, potentially, asking questions. He sat down on the bed and kicked his slippers off. He then scooted around, legs under the covers and then laid down completely on his own pillow. Stinger threw the covers over him too. His dislocated shoulder and the ridiculous bruise on his hip were both on the left side, so he was laying on his right side. Naaga was on his back, stiff and tense, and definitely cold. His skin was not even touching Stinger’s, and he could tell that he had been freezing on the floor.

“Naaga?” he murmured.

Naaga turned towards him, gray eyes inquisitive, even in the relative darkness of the room. 

“I’m glad you’re here.”

He could have dreamt the small smile, but was not sure.

\------------------

When he woke up again, the artificial sunlight had already begun to fill the room. Somehow during the night, they’d clearly gotten closer in the tiny bed. Stinger was still on his right side, but the blankets had been drawn up to their shoulders. One arm was tucked under his pillow and the other was around Naaga’s waist. The pain medication had made extending his arm bearable, and he couldn’t help but realize that Naaga’s shirt had ridden up and his hand and arm were touching soft sleep-warm skin. One of Naaga’s hands was pressed against his bare chest and the other had snaked around his side, under his own arm. Their legs were tangled together. From this position, Naaga’s breath was hot against his collarbone.

He didn’t really want to analyze any of this. On his home planet, they had to fight against their own harsh terrain to survive. Because survival was paramount, no one had time to judge or care about who anyone else chose to love or have sex with. He’d had male and female lovers over the years, so nothing about this developing into more bothered him. What bothered him was Naaga, himself. Naaga did not share a lot about his own home world, but the archives were available for anyone to read. While people on Naaga’s home world did get married, children were born to a birth mother and placed with an eligible couple. He was pretty sure no one on Naaga’s home world had sex, or probably even knew what that was. And, at the end of the day, he did not want to take advantage of someone who might have no idea what he was even consenting to. 

He had no time to consider the thought, because Naaga started to stir. From this angle, Stinger could see that his hair was not actually white, because some black roots were starting to show. When Naaga opened his eyes, he could see the gray eyes flecked through with brown. Even the gray fingernails were growing out. 

“Your hair is black,” Stinger said aloud before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” Naaga agreed, mumbling against his skin. 

And now that he was asking questions, “Why was it white?”

“Atmosphere.”

“On your home planet?”

A nod.

So Naaga was not a morning person. He must not have actually been asleep last night, in order to be so alert. Stinger found both ideas endearing. 

The moment was over too fast, because Naaga pushed himself into a sitting position, dislodging Stinger’s arm. Stinger almost immediately missed his warmth. Naaga rubbed his eyes for a moment and then said softly, voice hoarse and scratchy, “I’m going to get you another dose of medication.” At Stinger’s frown, he added, “Lower and non-drowsy, so you can be alert today. But you need to take another full dose tonight.”

The blankets were now pooled around their waists. Naaga had stopped talking and Stinger followed his gaze. Which was on Stinger’s tail. Since he was a small child, he’d subconsciously kept his tail behind him and out of the way during most interactions. He only really moved or brandished anything when fighting. The telson and stinger of his tail were resting on his hip. Which reminded him that was another extremely sore place on his body.

“Is that supposed to be… swollen?” Naaga paused, like he was floundering for words. Which he very well could be. 

“No,” Stinger replied, and then added, “Stiletto.”

He did not miss Naaga’s slight sympathetic wince. 

“Nothing’s broken,” he added. “Just swollen. Might be a few days before I can inject any venom.”

Naaga nodded. He pushed the covers off himself and stood up. “I’m going to get the meds, and some cold packs and breakfast.”

Stinger was about to remind him that breakfast was not served this early, but then he remembered that Naaga was more than capable of finding and preparing breakfast without Spada or any official mealtimes. Hell, the only reason there were officially sanctioned meal times was because Shou Lonpou wanted them to bond. Their commander hoped they’d be more willing to obey orders if they all cared about one another. He over looked that they were all drawn to this fight because they had all lost something to Jark Matter. 

He watched idly as Naaga put his slippers on and left the room. They both needed to shower and get dressed at some point. Stinger was fairly certain that he could get dressed with no assistance. As much as he wanted, for perhaps the only time in his life, to pull the blankets back up and go back to sleep, he forced himself to sit up. He briefly considered getting up to find a shirt, but decided there was little point, as Naaga had officially seen everything. 

Naaga was back eerily quickly. 

Stinger frowned.

The containers of food and coffee went on the nightstand, and then Naaga deposited the pills and set down a bag that probably contained the rest of the medical supplies. He then sat on the edge of the bed.

“Spada was already awake and making breakfast.”

“Shouldn’t he still be in the infirmary?” As Stinger made the comment, he remembered seeing Spada last night, but had been too pain-fogged to put the pieces together. But still, Raptor let him out? After he got captured by Jark Matter? Raptor had held people hostage in the infirmary for less. 

“You should be in the infirmary,” Naaga replied. Not a quip or retort, just a statement of fact. “Your injuries are worse than his.”

Stinger prevented himself from visibly wincing as he shifted. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

This conversation was going nowhere. “That’s why you brought more drugs for me, right?” Naaga handed him the pills and one of the containers of coffee. He swallowed the pills quickly and chased them with the coffee, which, thankfully, was at a drinkable temperature and not scalding hot. Not that he would ever have admitted to drinking too hot coffee. 

Naaga began pulling the cold packs and bandages out of the bag, as Stinger nursed the coffee. Now that Naaga had gotten out of bed and walked around, he was perfectly alert and impassive as ever. “You should ice your shoulder,” Naaga was saying, “And the bruise on your hip.” He paused and glanced towards end of his tail. “And…” he trailed off, like he didn’t know what to call anything on that particular part of Stinger’s anatomy. And, really, he probably didn’t. 

“I know,” he replied. He glanced at Naaga. “You should put some ice on your cheek.”

Naaga just nodded. “I know,” he echoed. 

Turns out, Naaga was extremely efficient at placing and anchoring cold packs. He put one on the front and back of Stinger’s shoulder and held them in place with a well-placed ace bandage. He then handed Stinger the other two cold packs to place. He rested his tail on his pillow and placed the cold pack directly on top. The other he pressed to his hip through his pants. 

They were quiet as they got out the food. Oatmeal. Interesting.

“Spada knows I like oatmeal,” Naaga said by way of an explanation. “So he made some for both of us.”

Stinger frowned a little. “He made this special?”

Naaga nodded slowly. “I think he was making waffles for everyone else.”

Huh. “That’s… nice… of him.”

One of the few things Stinger knew about Spada was that the chef paid extremely close attention to everyone’s favorite food and drink. Mention a food in passing as something you had enjoyed at some point in life, and Spada remembered and made the dish for you. Once Stinger realized that, he had been extremely careful to avoid saying anything of that nature to Spada. He did not want the well-intentioned chef to make him something from his childhood loaded with too many sad memories. Not that he said more than was necessary around the others anyways. Gods, the others were so open and transparent. And Lucky was the ringleader of caring and sharing and getting to know people. Stinger did not want his entire life on display for the others to know.

Perhaps that was why only Naaga knew about his brother. Perhaps that was why he liked spending time with Naaga. 

Naaga wasn’t telling his secrets to anyone. 

They ate in a comfortable silence, knees brushing every so often. Stinger was not sure why he practically felt sparks every time they happened to touch, especially not when they had just spent the better part of the night entangled with one another.

The food was practically gone when Naaga spoke, “Last night, you said we were friends.”

Stinger looked up. Naaga was looking at a spot on the wall. “Yes,” he agreed, and then added, “We’ve talked about that before.”

Naaga’s nod was barely there. “I know,” he replied, haltingly. “It’s just… I don’t understand most of the emotions, even if I feel them. And I don’t want to ask Lucky or Balance, because I don’t think they’ll understand.”

Naaga had never spoken that much about something he was feeling. Sure, to tell a story about his home planet or explain a technical piece of information, but this? Stinger put the dishes aside and reached out to grasp Naaga’s hand. Naaga’s gaze went from the wall to their clasped hands to meet Stinger’s own gaze. 

“Is there something more than friendship to feel for someone?”

His voice was soft, and he looked so small and broken and confused.

Stinger reached out without thinking, free hand going to Naaga’s cheek, thumb stroking his cheekbone, avoiding the bruise, before resting his hand on the side of his neck. Naaga leaned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed briefly. One of Naaga’s hands came up to cover his own. 

“Yes,” he replied softly. “And it’s normal. Completely normal.”

Still not thinking clearly, he closed the small gap between them and pressed his lips to Naaga’s. He was expecting the stiffness, the lack of response. He more or less expected Naaga to pull back, eyes wide with confusion or wonder or some other unidentifiable emotion. He did not expect Naaga to initiate the next kiss, and start actually kissing him back. 

This was closeness he hadn’t actually realized he’d been missing. He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, practically pulling the other man into his lap. He desperately wanted to deepen the kiss, to turn this into a full-on make-out session, complete with grinding and groping, but they needed to slow down. Naaga was clearly enthusiastic, but also had never done this before. And parts of Stinger’s body were still screaming at him that he needed to be resting.

He broke the kiss. Naaga’s eyes fluttered open, hands resting on his shoulders, cold packs pushed aside. Naaga was pretty much straddling his lap. One of his hands was on the small of Naaga’s back, palm pressed under his shirt against warm skin. The other was threaded through Naaga’s hair. “Is this okay?” he asked, breathless, looking for any sign that Naaga knew and was okay with this.

Naaga’s eyes met his. “Yes,” he replied. “I didn’t think this would be… good.”

Stinger couldn’t help but laugh. “You read about this?”

“We don’t do this on my home planet, and I was trying to figure out what I was feeling.”

Stinger just smiled, still laughing a little and pressed another long kiss to Naaga’s lips. Gods, a little more practice and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep up with Naaga. Those lips were soft and sweet. He really wished he didn’t have anything to do today.

Both their Seiza Blaster’s chimed with an alarm. 

“The schedule for today was posted,” Naaga said. “You’re on light duty, supervising Lucky with the Voyager maintenance.”

Stinger audibly groaned.

“Only in the morning. Spada said he’d make us some sandwiches for lunch, so we can eat somewhere else. Because you don’t feel well and probably want to be alone.”

Stinger purposely pushed the thought of anyone gossiping about him and Naaga out of his mind. Right now they had time for one last kiss before getting ready for the day, and he wanted to savor the feel of Naaga’s lips against his own.

He would never admit that he was afraid. Afraid of Jark Matter, afraid of and for his brother, afraid of the battle they had before them.

And Naaga, coming from a closed-borders sheltered people, leaving his home planet and becoming someone else, a warrior, a thief, because Jark Matter had invaded his home and destroyed their peace. Someone like Naaga never should have come as far as he did, never should have been the person a Kyuutama chose to fight. But a Kyuutama did. And Naaga did.

Perhaps Naaga was now giving him the courage to fight. 

Naaga was giving him hope.

And hope was a funny thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe I was not planning on having them kiss already? Oh well. I love it when my writing is just like, "Nope! This direction. Follow me!" :)


	4. Shining Brightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stinger was looking forward to a few unhurried minutes with Naaga before dinner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick turnaround between updates this time. Woo! More milestones in their budding relationship, plus guest POV from Spada. Enjoy!

**4/ Shining Brightly**   
_If you be my star, I’ll be your sky._

Stinger walked down the hall towards Naaga’s room, glad everything was quiet in the late afternoon. Most of them had finished their tasks for the day and were tending to personal items. He’d gotten a message from Naaga to meet him in his room after he was done in the Voyager bay. Stinger, for his part, was glad to have gotten the message. His day had been particularly annoying. He’d been assigned to patrol the surface with Lucky in the morning and patrolling really only meant two things—being unobtrusive and being observant. Lucky was pretty bad at the former and hit or miss with the latter. He kept up the mindless chatter the whole time. Stinger tuned him out, counting down the minutes. The part he didn’t tune out, that he should have, was Lucky asking him why he would bring Kotarou on the ship, only to then send him away. He didn’t say that, at first, he was rescuing the kid and thought the kid would go home after a while. The longer Kotarou stayed on the ship, the more annoyed Stinger got, because the kid had responsibilities on the surface. What was he even playing at? Then a Kyuutama chose the kid. Stinger didn’t want to think too much about what that meant (although he knew full well.)

The entire situation made him want to punch a wall, and Lucky insisting on picking at that scab did not help. 

In the afternoon, he’d been on Voyager maintenance with Balance. And as much as Balance also liked to chatter, he also liked to work, so they’d managed to work in relative silence all afternoon. Balance had been working with Raptor to put measures in place to protect against a parasite taking over the controls again, and his initial chatter was about that project. Then they got to work. 

Stinger did not even want to think about the ridiculous misunderstanding with Shou Lonpou (and the others) thinking someone attacked Naaga, when all that happened to Naaga was an accident. Stinger had done worse to himself down in the Voyager Bay (including more than one concussion.) Once Naaga came around, he told them exactly what happened, but no one had entirely filled him in on Shou Lonpou playing detective. (Although the fact that Champ accused Stinger immediately of being the traitor hurt, no matter how little he’d be willing to admit the fact.) 

Everyone was fine. The ship was fine. All the things making him crazy were his problem. 

Needless to say, Stinger was looking forward to a few unhurried minutes with Naaga before dinner.

He didn’t knock when he got to Naaga’s room, he just walked in. Naaga had reprogrammed his door controls to allow Stinger in at all times. (Stinger suspected Naaga had done the same thing to his own door, but wasn’t asking at this point.)

The room was dim when he walked in. 

If he thought his own room was Spartan, he had nothing on Naaga. He was not sure Naaga had anything other than clothes. And where Stinger tended towards loosely organized, meaning his clothes mostly ended up on the footboard of his bed or his desk chair, and he never made his bed, because what was the point, Naaga was precision and neatness. His bed was always immaculately made, clothes neatly folded and put away, no clutter or items anywhere in sight. 

Each of the rooms had windows out into space and at least one built in window seat. As the first person to get a room on this ship, Stinger had a bigger room, two of the window seats and not enough furniture to justify the larger space. Naaga’s room was smaller, with only one window seat, and the bed and desk had to be strategically placed, along with the small set of drawers. Naaga was sitting in the window seat, head resting against the window, staring out into the blackness of space. 

So Naaga was having a crappy day too.

Although he suspected Naaga’s bad day had nothing to do with finding the mute button on Lucky, wrenching some stubborn screws off a Voyager, or thinking too much about the kid getting a Kyuutama and whatever Argo was. 

“Hey,” he said softly, walking across the small room and gently touching Naaga’s leg. He then sat on the opposite end of the window seat. Their legs were still touching. Naaga turned towards him, head still resting on the window, some of the tension draining out of his shoulders. “What’s wrong?” he prompted.

Naaga turned back towards the window. “Lucky says we’re all friends, right?”

Lucky wasn’t the only one that said that, but Stinger just replied, “Yes.”

“Then why don’t we help each other?”

Stinger frowned. They fought together, they had their duty schedules every day and their missions when Raptor identified troublesome governors. They trained, kept the ship and Voyagers in shape, learned about new Skill Kyuutamas, ate together (which made Stinger itchy and irritable, so he avoided it whenever possible). Hell, he was pretty sure there was a card game going on that Balance was losing badly, because the mechanical lifeform didn’t wear clothes and he was the only one Stinger saw doing laundry. 

“Explain,” Stinger said slowly, eyes fixed on Naaga. 

Naaga was hard to read at the best of times, but now he looked wistful more than anything else. Maybe a touch of homesickness. Frustration? With Naaga, Stinger knew one of his biggest frustrations was not being able to clearly express himself. Not his fault, since he’d grown up on a planet that did not express or name emotions. Even if he felt something, which he often did, he didn’t have the words to describe the feeling nor did he know how to express the emotion. In the short time since he and Naaga started getting closer, Stinger realized that Naaga felt things deeply. Extremely deeply. To the point where he bottled things up and only tried to express an emotion when something bubbled over.

A long breath and then, “On my home planet, everyone helped with everything.”

This was coming to a specific example. “Like?” Stinger asked as gently as possible. 

“Meals.” Another deep breath. “Everyone helped prepare the meal and everyone helped clean up after the meal. One person wasn’t tasked with doing that. Everyone helped without being asked.” A pause. “Spada just does all that by himself.”

That specific example did not surprise Stinger, because he knew that extended to other areas as well. He also did not add that preparing the meals and cleaning up after them was Spada’s job. Naaga knew that was Spada’s job, but he was not used to something like that being regulated to one person. On Stinger’s home planet, meals were communal but there was a cook team that prepared the food and kept the mess tent clean. Naaga’s home world was all about having a job and a place, but also helping and supporting equally. Stinger supposed that gave them no reason to resent one another. 

There wasn’t much he could say about the situation to make Naaga feel better, so he firmly leaned against the window frame and gently grasped Naaga’s arm, encouraging him to move closer. Naaga got the hint and went easily, pressed against his side, head resting on his shoulder. Stinger had an arm over Naaga’s shoulder, unzipping his jacket a little so he could rest his palm near Naaga’s heart. Naaga’s hand was on his knee, fingers drawing nonsense patterns. 

“Everything is so different here.”

Stinger didn’t reply, just pressed a kiss to Naaga’s temple. He wasn’t wrong. Stinger remembered being alone, scrabbling to survive on his Jark Matter-controlled home world. Then Rebellion tracked him down. He was the first Kyuuranger and he had basic military training. They trained him quickly as a spy. He’d barely been off-planet before that and was not even fully aware that other planets did not live in tents and hunt over-sized desert rodents for food. For him, after Jark Matter’s disgusting opulence, ORION-gou was the happy medium. 

After a few moments, Naaga shifted, turning towards him. Stinger just brushed the hair out of his eyes and Naaga leaned into his touch. He leaned forward, closing the small space between them and caught Naaga in a chaste, close-mouthed kiss. He gently prodded the closed seam of Naaga’s lips and Naaga opened for him, the kiss deepening. A flush of warmth went through Stinger’s body as he gently nudged Naaga into the position he wanted, one leg across Stinger’s lap. Naaga had one hand on his chest and the other on the side of his neck. He ran his tongue against Naaga’s, glad when Naaga went to bid for some dominance. The warmth pooled in his stomach as he got one hand under the back of Naaga’s shirt and jacket, touching soft skin. His other hand was tangled in Naaga’s hair. 

Naaga made a small, needy noise in the back of his throat, pressing closer. He shifted, pretty much straddling Stinger’s lap at this point. They broke apart to breathe briefly, and then went back, the kiss turning messy, teeth clashing and tongues touching. The small, desperate noises out of Naaga were delicious, and he could hear his own answering groan. All the electricity was moving south, and he could feel himself get semi-hard as Naaga shuddered hard with need. Naaga was rocking a little in his lap, not quite grinding down, so Stinger couldn’t quite confirm he was in the same state. However, if those noises were anything to go by…

Suddenly, the kiss broke, and Naaga backed away, breathing hard.

“I’m sorry,” Naaga gasped.

Stinger blinked, trying to overcome the fog in his brain, and keep from just surging forward and continuing to kiss Naaga. “What?” he asked, knowing that was not the best question to ask but was really the only one he could formulate.

“I… um… I just…” He floundered for words. “Um… is this normal?”

Stinger blinked again. 

And then realized what Naaga was talking about and what had him freaked out.

They were still sitting close together on the window seat, so Stinger just pressed a firm kiss to Naaga’s lips, then whispered, “I’m going to touch you.”

Naaga clearly had no idea what that meant, so Stinger tried to be as deliberate as possible. He unzipped the jacket all the way and ran a hand down the gray shirt underneath. He paused at the belt, but then ran a hand down the front of his pants. Yeah, Naaga was definitely turned on by this too. Naaga shivered—hard—when Stinger touched him and made an involuntary noise. “Stinger…” he damn-near stuttered. 

Okay. Time to not laugh and be as patient as possible.

“Has that happened before when we’ve kissed?”

Naaga nodded. “It goes away after a while.”

“That’s what’s supposed to happen.”

Naaga slumped in relief. Stinger just smiled. “I read about it, but didn’t know what that was actually like, and I think I know what you’re supposed to do about it.”

“I’ll show you what happens,” Stinger reassured him, pressing another open-mouthed kiss to his lips.

Three days would go by before they circled back around to _this_.

\-------------------

The first time Spada noticed Stinger slinking around the galley as he arrived there to prepare dinner was on Monday. Stinger had been assigned to patrol the surface that day, so Spada was surprised he came back to the ship at all, let alone an hour before dinner was supposed to be served. Stinger usually just stayed on the surface on the days he patrolled Earth. Spada was not sure what Stinger was doing, because the man looked like he wanted to both run away and stick around. He disappeared once he confirmed Spada was, indeed, in the galley.

Weird.

And he would have thought nothing about it—just Stinger crossing paths with someone—if the next morning had not happened.

Usually no one else was in the galley when Spada got there to prepare breakfast. He knew some of the others got up early, notably Stinger. Champ and Raptor didn’t have to sleep, but they did not hang out in the galley when the others were sleeping. Stinger said never said anything about sleeping badly, but Spada suspected he was in the category of ‘hate sleeping, avoid it whenever possible.’ 

However, Stinger was already in the galley. He looked like he’d rather be, literally, anywhere else in the galaxy. But he also had a strange look of determination. 

“Do you need help?”

That was unexpected, but Spada decided to roll with it. “Sure,” he said easily, keeping his voice and expression as neutral as possible. “Wash your hands and put on an apron.” He gestured to the small hooks on the side of the kitchen that held all the aprons. 

Stinger complied, but his eyes kept darting towards the exits, like a caged animal looking for an escape. Spada really wanted to ask what the hell was going on, but feared that would chase Stinger away and he was clearly trying to accomplish something here. 

Well, sure. Spada gave him the fruit to cut, figuring Stinger would be comfortable stabbing something. And maybe Spada should not have been surprised when Stinger completed each task with razor-sharp precision. Hell, Spada was a professional chef and he could not even cut all that fruit as precisely and as quickly as Stinger did. 

The closer they got to a time that the others might start arriving, the edgier Stinger got. He said nothing and his expression didn’t change, but when Spada accidentally banged a pan against the edge of the stove, Stinger visibly started and his eyes searched the room wildly. It was getting more and more painful to watch Stinger doggedly persisting in this, so Spada decided to give him an exit. 

“Look, thanks for all your help,” he said. “This is pretty much done. Why don’t you take some food and go down to the Voyager bay or something? You look like you could use some peace and quiet.”

Stinger mumbled thanks, shed the apron and practically bolted from the galley, taking way less food than Spada would recommend for breakfast. 

And, again, Spada would have been willing to write off that incident as some weird olive branch that Stinger was extending that only made sense to him. (Stinger always seemed to be going against the grain with so many issues, so Spada, personally, was never surprised that he made himself scarce.)

Had Stinger not shown up again before lunch and offered the same thing.

That afternoon, Spada checked the schedule, just to see if he could come up with any reason as to why Stinger was being weird. Well, weirder than usual. He caught who was patrolling on the surface—Naaga and Lucky. The former would not drive Stinger away from the group settings. In fact, Stinger was more likely to stick around if Naaga was there. Neither one of them was open about it, but they were pretty close friends. And Spada was glad. The pair of them needed a close friend and now they had each other. Sure, Balance knew Naaga relatively well, but didn’t seem to take the time to really understand him like Stinger did. And Lucky… Stinger made no secret of the fact that Lucky irritated him, so him avoiding Lucky was not all that surprising. (And neither was Stinger avoiding Champ or Kotarou.)

So why would Naaga and Lucky being on the surface mean Stinger was helping with meals?

Stinger was on the overnight patrol shift that night, meaning he wouldn’t be around for dinner and would not be back on the ship until Wednesday afternoon. Spada double-checked the schedule. Stinger was on patrol with… Garou. Well, at least Garou was one of the Kyuurangers that did not seem to visibly irritate Stinger, so that would be good. 

Dinner, and then the next day’s breakfast and lunch passed without incident. 

Stinger showing up just as he got to the galley to prepare dinner again did not surprise him. The fact that Stinger had Naaga trailing behind him did. 

“We’re here to help,” Stinger informed him.

“Great!” Spada replied brightly, not even touching the fact that Stinger had not asked a question.

“Wash your hands and put on an apron,” Stinger said to Naaga.

Spada had to resist quirking an eyebrow. Naaga did not seem like he was here under duress. Rather, he seemed pretty content to be here. (Not that anyone could ever really tell with Naaga.) He mild-manneredly trooped into the galley to do what Stinger said. 

A lot of Italian swear words came to mind, but Spada just kept his expression positive. He set Naaga about mixing the sauce for the stir-fry he was putting together, and had Stinger chop the vegetables. And made the mistake of asking Stinger if he was okay with that.

“Yes,” Stinger replied irritably. “This is easy. A child could do this.”

Spada thought to the resident child on their ship, Kotarou, and resisted the urge to tell Stinger that not only could Kotarou most definitely not handle chopping vegetables, the kid was pretty hopeless when it came to preparing any of his own food. 

In typical fashion, Stinger chopped the vegetables evenly and quickly. Really quickly. Spada needed to find something else for him to do or dinner would be ready way before anyone was around to eat the dinner. Spada pulled up a simple sheet cake recipe on a datapad. He handed the recipe to Stinger. “You’re good making that, right?” he asked.

Stinger narrowed his eyes. “I can read and follow directions. It’s fine.”

Now that Spada had Stinger occupied, he turned back to Naaga and they worked in tandem to get the stir-fry ready to cook right before the others got there. Stinger got the cake in the oven quickly, allowing the three of them to set the table together. The stir-fry went quickly and was ready just as the others started filing in and taking their seats. Spada did not miss that Stinger shed the apron before the others got there, but supposed it didn’t matter that much because the cake was out of the oven and iced by that point in time. 

Everyone sat down and the food was passed out. Stinger took a seat next to Naaga at the far end of the table, putting as much distance between himself, and Champ, Kotarou and Lucky as possible. Champ, Raptor and Balance did not actually eat the same food as the rest of them. Champ and Raptor were robots and didn’t need to eat. Balance mostly drank a weird assortment of oil and mechanical fluids. 

When they got to the cake, Hame was the first person to say, “This is amazing!”

Spada was about to give Stinger credit, but caught the furious glare being thrown his direction. “Old family recipe,” he replied. 

When they were done eating, Spada expected them to pile their dishes near the sink and cleaner and start filing out. Naaga stood up first to clear his dishes, and Stinger followed suit. He gave Garou a pointed look, and glared at Hame. Garou just followed Naaga and loaded his dishes into the cleaner, and Hame scrambled to follow suit. Raptor, Champ and Balance had no dishes, so Lucky just went with the flow and Spada followed them, along with Shou Lonpou and Kotarou. Spada was not sure how Stinger managed to coordinate a whole group of people into not only loading their own dishes, but all the cooking dishes as well, and then cleaning the sink, stove, counters and table, but he did. And he did it with a series of pointed looks and glares. 

The galley had never been cleaner and the clean-up took all of five minutes. 

Spada wondered what the hell happened, in the relative chaos as everyone departed for the evening. In the noise, he caught Naaga gently squeeze Stinger’s wrist and give him the barest hint of a smile. Stinger’s return smile was a little tense, but his eyes softened. 

Stinger was up to something.

\-------------------

“Thank you,” Naaga said softly as they lay on Naaga’s bed later that night.

Stinger didn’t reply. He didn’t want to tell Naaga how many times he almost bailed on the entire thing. Every instinct in him screamed and clawed against anything that remotely felt like happy family. He respected all the others, would fight with and for all the other Kyuurangers, but that was a far cry from being comfortable sitting around for what amounted to family dinners. He had to keep telling himself that this was not about him—he was doing this for Naaga. Being a spy for so long had ingrained in him that he needed to get the lay of the land first. Spada was good-natured and trusting and, even if he had questions about what Stinger was doing, he kept them to himself. Stinger could rank everyone else on this ship based on their propensity to gossip. Spada only lost to Naaga on the end of ‘never gossip.’ Lucky only came second to Hame on the ‘tell everyone everything’ end, because he took a second longer to start discussing things, whereas, Hame shared in real time. 

“I know that was hard for you,” Naaga added. 

Stinger delayed responding by pushing Naaga’s hair out of his eyes and giving him a brief kiss. “It made you happy,” he finally replied. 

“Happy,” Naaga echoed. “Can happiness be like contentment?”

“Sometimes.”

Naaga frowned a little, nose wrinkling slightly. “Emotions are complex.”

He said that all the time and, only during conversations like this, did Stinger fully realize and appreciate what Naaga meant by the statement. Each emotion could be felt with varying intensity and come in wildly different situations. Naaga tried to approach emotions systematically, but got frustrated because there were so many variables. 

“You said a few days ago that you’d show me what to do about…” Naaga trailed off and gestured vaguely. 

Stinger couldn’t help the smile. Ever since he said that Naaga, they seemed to be on opposing schedules. First, Naaga went on the overnight patrol shift with Lucky, then just as he got back, Stinger rotated onto that shift. Dinner that night had been the first time they had seen each other for a while. He didn’t want to admit that he slept a lot better and longer when Naaga was around. They had been sharing a bed ever since Naaga helped him recover from the incident with Ikaagen and Maadako. Sometimes his room, sometimes Naaga’s, didn’t matter where. His dreams were not as vivid and felt like dreams instead of memories, when Naaga was next to him, and he slept until five or five-thirty, rather than waking up at two-thirty or three and being unable to go back to sleep. 

The real reason he beat Spada to the galley the day he offered to help with breakfast was partially because he planned to be there, but really because he had woken up at three a.m. and, without Naaga, had not been able to get back to sleep and had been pacing the common areas until six-thirty when Spada showed up. Naaga had been taking his turn on night watch during part of that, and tried to convince Stinger to drink some tea and attempt to go back to sleep, but he was too wired. Drinking some chamomile tea was not going to convince his body to sleep. (And he found chamomile tea to be disgusting. He was not a tea drinker. But Naaga liked the stuff, so he knew where the tea was kept and how to prepare said tea.)

“I did say that, didn’t I?”

He drew Naaga closer by wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling their bodies closer together. They’d shed unnecessary clothing when they got to Naaga’s room later that evening. Jackets and Seiza Blasters off, shoes and socks gone. Naaga just moved closer willingly, beginning their next kiss. 

All of this might have been an incredibly bad idea, and he couldn’t identify what about Naaga drew him towards him. Stinger’s life had slowly devolved into a never ending explosion of sadness, betrayal, emotions, fighting, actual explosions and too little sleep to deal with everything. Despite the turmoil that he knew Naaga felt, Naaga projected a calm centeredness, a determination that was quiet and stubborn. Naaga knew what he wanted. If Stinger had a hundred lifetimes, he’d never be able to figure out what he wanted. Being truly alone was a terrifying thing, but Stinger had been alone for so long that he had trouble remembering what having friends felt like. 

He deepened the kiss, shifting to press Naaga into the mattress. Naaga went easily, angling up to meet him for the kiss. This was wet and messy and just a little uncoordinated. His body felt hot, all the heat going south. He was pleased to note the flush across Naaga’s cheeks as he pulled back a little and encouraged Naaga to lean up a little, as he got Naaga’s shirt up and over his head. He dropped the shirt somewhere else in the bed and continued kissing Naaga. He’d sort of seen Naaga this undressed before and pulled back to take a moment to fully appreciate the view. Naaga was lean and fit, with hints of muscle. Smooth, unblemished skin from a life of carefully controlled environment and health. 

“What?” Naaga asked, breathless. 

“Nothing,” Stinger replied. “Just you.”

Naaga looked a little puzzled, and Stinger didn’t have much more explanation, so he took the opportunity to pull his own shirt over his head and discard the garment. Naaga reached out, hands touching skin on his bare sides. He kissed Naaga again, glad when Naaga opened up for him. He moved one leg between Naaga’s, giving him something to grind on. The kiss broke when Naaga gasped, hips moving involuntarily against Stinger’s thigh. Stinger took the opportunity to kiss down Naaga’s neck and start sucking a bruise onto Naaga’s collarbone. Naaga’s hips stuttered and a pleased noise rose from the back of his throat. He could taste the first sheen of sweat on Naaga’s skin, and an answering noise came from him as well. 

He could feel Naaga’s hardness pressing against his thigh, and he’d gone from nothing to completely hard with just a few kisses and touches. No one before had ever gotten this kind of a reaction out of him. No one. 

Stinger moved back a little and his hands went to Naaga’s belt. Naaga’s hand shifted from where his fingers had been tracing a scar on Stinger’s back (from a Jark Matter lackey when Stinger hadn’t checked all angles well enough), covering Stinger’s. He looked a little nervous. Stinger kept one hand on his stomach and moved the other to brush through his hair. He always seemed to be running his fingers through Naaga’s hair and brushing his hair out of his eyes, and he did it on purpose. Naaga was okay with people touching him, as long as he could see the touch coming. (Part of the reason Naaga had been so thrown when Balance hugged him at Balance’s birthday party.) So Stinger had figured out that touching Naaga’s hand or hair gave him time to adjust and invite more touches. 

“Trust me,” he whispered, kissing Naaga briefly. Naaga nodded, eyes focused on him and then flicking down to their hands. And this was okay. Like with kissing, Naaga would get comfortable and be more vocal about what he wanted. 

He unbuckled Naaga’s belt, Naaga’s hand going further up his arm, eyes tracking his movements. He unbuttoned and unzipped Naaga’s pants and then ran a hand down his flat stomach, inside his shorts and pants. He grasped his length, stroking downward, feeling the bit of pre-cum gathered on the tip and spreading it around. “Stinger!” Naaga cried as he touched him, hips moving up and fingers searching for purchase on Stinger’s skin. 

Stinger used his free hand to push the sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes and reach down to kiss him soundly. Naaga moaned into the kiss as he continued stroking. 

Then he felt Naaga’s hands on his own belt. He smiled into the kiss, pulling back again and helping Naaga undo his own pants. He pushed Naaga’s pants and shorts down enough to free his erection, and then did the same for himself. Naaga reaching out tentatively to touch him was enough to produce a pleased noise. 

He lowered his hips, still with one leg between Naaga’s, so he could stroke both of him at once. He inhaled sharply when their cocks touched, and Naaga whined, deep in the back of his throat. He put a little more pressure as he stroked. He wasn’t going to last long and, from the deep flush across Naaga’s face and chest, and the erratic way he was breathing, Naaga wasn’t either. Naaga lowered a hand, joining Stinger in pumping both of them. 

Naaga’s eyes, which had fluttered closed earlier, suddenly snapped open. “Stinger, I—“ He clearly didn’t have words, mouth falling open in pleasure as no sound came out. Naaga was tensing a little, but not in the way he should have been. 

“It’s okay,” Stinger murmured, kissing Naaga’s forehead and then his lips. “Just relax and go with it.”

“Stinger,” Naaga repeated, his name breathy, eyes wide.

Stinger continued stroking them, as he said softly and encouragingly, “Just relax. Relax. I’ve got you. Let go.”

Naaga’s body shuddered hard and his head pressed against Stinger’s shoulder. Naaga exhaled harshly and a wordless noise of pleasure came out of him, and then warm, sticky fluid spilled between their bodies. Stinger joined him over the edge a moment later.

Naaga collapsed onto the bed and Stinger was partially on top of him. He didn’t realize for a long moment that he was shaking. He waited for their breathing to return to normal, before adjusting himself next to Naaga instead of on top of him. He quickly rid them of the remainder of their clothes, grabbed the first shirt he found (and he honestly didn’t take the time to figure out whose it was) and cleaned the mess from their stomachs. Naaga rolled to his side to face him, meeting him in a lazy, tired kiss. 

“That’s how you handle that?” Naaga asked, voice exhausted, lips kiss swollen.

Stinger smiled softly. “One of the ways.”

“That was… messy. But amazing.”

“Sex is like that.”

Stinger didn’t really want to answer any more questions, just wanted to enjoy the afterglow, so he pulled Naaga closer and they lazily kissed for a while. When Naaga pulled back from the kiss to yawn, Stinger reached down and pulled the blankets over them. (The blankets had gotten pulled back to the foot of the bed when they got into the room.) Only because they’d had nights of practice, they knew how to arrange themselves into the best position to sleep, facing each other. Stinger had one arm under the pillow and the other around Naaga’s waist. Naaga had one arm over Stinger’s side and the other against his chest. This way, Naaga could curl into him. Stinger would not admit that he really liked that. 

For the first time in a long time, Stinger did not have a dream of home.

\--------------------

The next day before lunch, Naaga came back to his room and stopped short. 

Stinger always got up before Naaga, and that morning had been no exception. Unfortunately, Naaga needed to be up right around that same time to help Balance with the continuing cyber security upgrades. (Balance didn’t sleep, exactly, just went into low power mode for three hours each night.) So they got up, showered and took off for their duties for the day.

But Stinger had clearly come back at some point in the morning.

Because Naaga’s bed was made with fresh sheets and all the clothes were washed and put away. Granted, the bed was made a little clumsily, but pretty well considering that Stinger never made his own bed. 

A genuine smile, not one he had to force, spread across his face. 

He spent so much time trying to figure out Stinger, that he never noticed when Stinger figured him out. A warm feeling spread through his chest, making him feel content and a little… exhilarated? He knew that he and Stinger were more than friends, but he didn’t have a name for it. Not yet.

There was hope for them after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't guarantee the next update will be as quick. I have lots of ideas, but end up waiting for the episodes so I can make sure I tie them back. Ah well. Big thanks for everyone reading, commenting and kudos-ing (is that a word?) on this piece. I appreciate all your support! Keep on reading! <3


	5. When the Stars Come Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is Stinger coming to dinner?” The question gave Naaga a quick pang of anxiety and he was not entirely sure why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, y'all, spoilers for Space 11 ahead, and also more smut! Turn back now for no spoilers! (Also, this is set after Space 11.) More guest POVs and relationship milestones.

**5/ When the Stars Come Out**   
_Don’t lose hope. When it gets dark, the stars will come out._

_“I told Kotarou I had an older brother.”_

_“Had?”_

_A sad smile. “Yes. I didn’t say I have an older brother. I said I had an older brother.”_

_Naaga reached out, gently tracing Stinger’s cheekbone with his thumb. Stinger leaned into the touch, eyes bright. “Why?”_

_Stinger took a deep breath. “I told him because his attitude was too much like my brother’s when he would come home, slowly becoming a better fighter, becoming more powerful. At first, my brother wanted to help the weak, but then he began to believe people owed him for protecting them. He needs to think about his little brother, be someone Jirou can be proud of.”_

_“And the other?”_

_“Even infiltrating Jark Matter, I couldn’t find my brother. He hasn’t been a brother to me in a long time.”_

_There was deep sorrow in Stinger’s expression, eyes still shining with unshed tears. Naaga gently pulled Stinger closer, not sure what to do about this emotion, but wanting to make him feel better. Stinger wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, letting their legs tangle together as they lay on Naaga’s bed._

_“Kotarou called me Aniki,” Stinger whispered._

_“What you used to call your brother.”_

_“Yes.” Stinger met his gaze. “I—I can’t be that for Kotarou. I can’t be his older brother. I’m drowning under the weight of everything… I’m… I’m too broken.”_

_“You told me once that your Kyuutama came to you when you were completely alone and had given up all hope.” Stinger didn’t reply, just gazed at him. “What if Kotarou felt the same way?” Naaga shrugged. “He’s a child, so things feel hopeless faster, but he wanted to protect his brother and his planet. And the Kyuutama knew you would be there to guide him.”_

_A tear slid down Stinger’s cheek that he quickly brushed away. “It’s too much.”_

_“You’re not alone. You’re not the only one responsible for Kotarou. We all are.”_

_Another tear fell. Stinger just looked hopeless and broken and miserable. All of this should have been a good thing. Kotarou responding to him should have been good. Creating the new combination with the Ryuu Voyager and the Koguma Voyager should have been good. Naaga wanted to ask Stinger why he held on for so long if he was going to give up now, but he also knew that everything about Kotarou and Jirou hit too close for Stinger. Stinger still blamed himself for his brother joining Jark Matter._

_Naaga just pulled Stinger completely against him, so he could curl into him. He rubbed Stinger’s back, and any words he uttered were nonsense. He just wanted Stinger to not cry about this. None of this was worth crying about. But Stinger was. And all Naaga could do was hold him._

\--------------------

“Hey, Naaga!”

Naaga paused and turned towards the voice. Spada. The chef was half-jogging down the hall to catch up with him. Naaga had just gotten back from an afternoon shift patrolling the surface and was going to drop his things off, before fully intending to go help Spada prepare dinner. 

Spada caught up to him. “Is Stinger coming to dinner?”

The question gave Naaga a quick pang of anxiety and he was not entirely sure why. Perhaps because he and Stinger had talked about their relationship (that was the word that Stinger had used and Naaga found he quite liked using that word to describe them), and come to the conclusion that neither of them were comfortable with the idea of the others knowing the extent. If the others knew, they would speculate and pry. The idea of them speculating about intimate things did not sit well with Naaga, and Stinger was intensely private. But Spada was observant and seemed to think they were close friends. Which was fine. And Spada was not likely to pry. According to Stinger. Naaga had trouble reading people and figuring out their intentions, which frustrated him.

“I don’t know,” Naaga finally answered honestly. 

“Hmm,” Spada replied, frowning a little. Naaga did not need to ask why Spada was asking, because he just continued, “He barely ate at breakfast, and he missed lunch entirely, and I am almost positive he didn’t take anything from the galley. And he wasn’t patrolling the surface today.”

Naaga was silent. He knew exactly where Stinger was and what was going on, but he was not about to tell that piece of the story to Spada. Besides, Spada had not asked. 

Spada shook his head. “Look, I don’t want him starving himself or living off energy bars. If you see him, just tell him that he doesn’t even have to come to dinner—I’ll put some aside for him. He can eat after the others are gone, if he wants.”

Naaga nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

Spada clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks!” he said brightly, and then took off down the hall towards the galley. 

So he wasn’t helping with dinner after all. Naaga went down the hall to his room and entered. He quickly unloaded his pack and put all the items, including the pack, away. The laundry was folded, but still sitting at the foot of his bed. (He’d done the laundry that morning, because he was cleaning the ship and running system diagnostics, so he had more flexibility.) He put his own clothes away, paused at Stinger’s, and then just put them in a space he had cleared in one of the drawers. A few months ago, he would have been horrified at the idea of his things comingling with someone else’s. Now, the thought of Stinger’s things with his pleased him.

Stinger was down in the Voyager Bay, where he had been all day. No one was scheduled on Voyager maintenance that day. However, Raptor knew when she assigned Stinger to things other than patrolling, training or Voyager maintenance, there was a chance he was not showing up and was just going to do what he wanted. Since Naaga spent so much time trying to corroborate Shou Lonpou’s fanciful tales, he sort of understood the disregard for authority. (Naaga had practice with that, first as a thief with Balance, and now as a Kyuuranger.) And Stinger didn’t confront anyone about it, and Raptor never made a big deal about it either. Like an unspoken agreement between them. Didn’t stop the others from complaining when they were on a shift Stinger didn’t show up to, but Naaga had noticed those shifts tended to be one person jobs anyways. And the people in charge didn’t seem worried.

So Naaga headed down to the Voyager Bay.

For not being assigned to the task, Stinger had clearly run diagnostics on all the Voyagers and performed repairs, because the log datapads inside the entrance to the Voyager Bay all indicated fresh maintenance and a last inspection of that same day. Knowing Stinger, he’d probably gotten through all that maintenance by lunch time, and then had spent the rest of the day down here, thinking too hard. 

Naaga found him sitting underneath Hebitsukai Voyager, leaning against what could become a fang during the battle, when his own Kyuutama activated the Voyager. He looked exhausted, and one of his hands was wrapped in a makeshift bandage. 

“Should I have brought a first aid kit?”

Stinger turned towards him, expression not changing, but his eyes softening. “No,” he said softly. “This is nothing.”

Naaga ducked under his Voyager quickly to sit across from Stinger. “What happened?” he asked, nudging his knee to Stinger’s.

“Ookami Voyager has a lot of parts, and some of them didn’t want to come off.”

Naaga nudged him a little more purposely.

Stinger exhaled, eyes meeting Naaga’s. He really did look tired, but not physically tired. In a lot of ways, Naaga knew Stinger was okay with Shou Lonpou becoming a Kyuuranger. Their commander was flighty and exaggerated stories, but he’d fought with Rebellion from the beginning, and believed so much in the Kyuurangers that he created a temporary henshin with a Skill Kyuutama. In equally as many ways, Stinger was really not okay with Kotarou becoming a Kyuuranger. Aside from the obvious dangers of having a child fighting with them, Naaga knew the whole situation reminded Stinger a little too sharply of what happened with his own brother. As far as Stinger was concerned, Kotarou should have stayed on the surface and protected his little brother, not abandoned him. Yes, a Kyuutama chose Kotarou and Stinger knew that sealed things, but he also hated that Jirou was alone. They could not bring another child on this ship, did not have the resources to look after one. Some of Stinger’s unofficial patrol shifts were spent checking on Jirou. But in spite of all Stinger’s reservations, Kotarou was the only other person who knew Stinger had an older brother. Stinger hadn’t told Kotarou what happened to his brother, but Kotarou now looked up to Stinger, viewed him as an older brother. Something Stinger was entirely uncomfortable with.

Some of the others did not help the situation, like Lucky or Champ, by just expecting Stinger to be fine with things. Only Naaga knew why Stinger was so sensitive to this entire situation. He wouldn’t tell the others, and Naaga wished they would give him more space, more latitude. Stinger had been the first Kyuuranger, alone then, and then immediately sent off as a spy into Jark Matter, even more alone. Most of them had witnessed the invasion of their home planets by Jark Matter, but none like Stinger, where the population of his entire planet had been murdered by Jark Matter. They were not even taking the time to think about what Stinger had gone through as a spy, because that alone would have been horrific. 

“Let me see,” Naaga said after a pause.

Stinger held out his bandaged hand. Naaga quickly unwrapped the makeshift bandage (which was a piece of a cleaning cloth, albeit an unused portion). The cut across Stinger’s left palm was shallow and had stopped bleeding. No infection. Naaga rewrapped the cloth more securely.

“You need antiseptic and a real bandage, but no damage.”

“Told you I was fine.”

Naaga wanted to reply that he was clearly not fine because he was hiding in the Voyager Bay and avoiding everyone, not just his usual picks for avoidance. But there was very little point in saying so. While Naaga knew some of the pain that Stinger hid from the world, he knew there were depths he could not fathom. So instead, he gently touched Stinger’s knee. 

“You don’t have to carry everything alone,” Naaga whispered. 

Stinger’s expression softened and he reached out to take Naaga’s hand, threading their fingers together. He didn’t say anything, but his fingers tightened around Naaga’s and his eyes were distant, and a little bright. 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, breathing evening out and matching one another. Naaga loved quiet moments like this, found so much peace in just _being_ with another person. His home planet expressed little emotion and helping out—sharing equally—was another mechanism to keep emotions from bubbling up. Everyone was the same, with the same responsibilities. The more Naaga learned about emotions, the more he was coming to realize how stressful that was, being careful to not offend or be seen doing less. Here, duties were straightforward and helping out other places was seen as fine, his choice. Stinger often asked him what he wanted, no matter what they were doing, from deciding how to spend a free afternoon to what they were doing in bed. For him, having so many choices was novel, liberating. 

“Are you coming to dinner?” Naaga asked softly after a while.

Stinger let out another long breath, leaning back against the Voyager. “I don’t really want to be around the others right now.”

“I know,” Naaga replied, “But Spada asked. He thinks you’re starving yourself.”

Stinger blinked, frowning. “I had energy bars.”

“You know what Spada thinks of those.”

Stinger snorted a little. Not a true laugh, but close enough to one, for now. 

“Spada said he’d save food for you…” Naaga trailed off.

“There’s a ‘but’ there.”

“But I really want you to come to dinner.” He said the words quickly, because he knew he might not say them. He didn’t really know why, but he liked doing mundane things with Stinger—eating meals, doing laundry, cleaning their rooms. About once every two weeks, Raptor assigned everyone to clean their living spaces. Naaga never needed to clean his own room, so the last time he helped Stinger. Not that his room was messy, just not swept or dusted like Naaga’s. 

“Naaga—“

And now that he had started talking about what he wanted, he continued, “We can sit with Balance and Raptor. All Balance wants to talk about is the security upgrades. And I can just ask Raptor about the latest story she’s writing and she’ll talk about that the whole meal. You won’t have to say anything.”

Stinger smiled a little and squeezed his hand. “Come here,” he muttered.

Naaga allowed himself to be pulled forward into Stinger’s space. Stinger released his hand to cup his face, and then run both hands through his hair, hands resting on the back of his neck. Their lips met in an open-mouth, sound kiss. The familiar shudder of pleasure ran down his spine. Their tongues met briefly, just before anything turned electric, and then Stinger pulled back. Naaga stayed in his space for a moment, before saying softly, “I have some questions for you about…” he gestured vaguely. 

Luckily for him, Stinger knew exactly what he was asking about when he did that. He smiled again, a little more, and just replied, “I will do my best to answer them.” He kissed Naaga quickly, pulling forward completely so he was straddling Stinger’s lap, pressed down, their bodies close together.  
Stinger’s lips hovering close to his, not quite kissing. “What did you want to ask about?” he asked softly. 

Naaga looked away wildly, not sure how to ask, a flush rising in his cheeks. He tried to find more information about the _thing_ they were doing, and he had some success, but not much. Everything seemed to be not factual and more fiction and ridiculousness. He avoided those. But he had been able to figure out that there was a way for them to be even closer and he wanted to try, even if they needed time or practice, he just… 

"Did you want to try something?” Stinger asked, voice low and husky, arms lowering to Naaga’s waist, holding him close. One hand worked under his jacket and shirt, thumb rubbing against his skin. Naaga bit back a moan from Stinger touching him like that. 

Naaga finally nodded, swallowing hard.

“What?” Stinger asked. “You can tell me.”

“Uh… I want you… closer…” His voice was shaking and his whole body felt warm, partly from how close Stinger was, but also because he was nervous asking.

Stinger leaned back just a little, not quite frowning but furrowing his eyebrows a little. “Naaga? Are you asking about what I think? You want me to—“

“Yes,” he said quickly, wishing they were in one of their rooms and not the Voyager Bay. Why had he even brought this up here? Anyone could walk in. Unlikely, but still. He really did not want any of the others to walk in on the middle of this conversation. And Naaga’s whole body was warm just from a kiss and being close to Stinger. He felt the flush deepen. 

“That’s not something we just do,” Stinger replied. “We have to work up towards it. And you’ve never, so I could—“

“I want to. I just...” Naaga trailed off, not sure how to say that he wanted Stinger closer and he wanted things in a specific way, not just doing things an easier way because Stinger had way more experience with this than him. That’s not what he wanted. They might not even have what they needed on the ship, which would delay everything, but at least he said something.

“Okay, okay,” Stinger said, taking a steadying breath. “After dinner, tonight. We’ll go to my room. I have what we need.”

Naaga nodded, swallowing loudly in the quiet space.

“Hey,” Stinger replied, brushing his hair out of his eyes and then running his fingers through his hair. “I’m glad you asked. You don’t get what you silently wish for.”

_You don’t get what you silently wish for._

Naaga closed the small space between them to start a long, ultimately chaste kiss. Stinger sometimes needed to take his own advice. He tried to forget how embarrassing asking had been, and how much he wanted to try those things with Stinger. He was not sure how he was going to get through dinner, thinking about this, but he had said they would sit with Balance and Raptor. Maybe that would be his out as well. 

Stinger broke the kiss. “You good?” he asked.

Naaga nodded again.

“Let’s go to dinner.”

Naaga stood up quickly, and then reached out a hand to help Stinger get up. They were quiet as they made their way up to the galley for dinner. He hoped he wasn’t still flushed by the time they got to dinner, but he had time, as he was making Stinger stop by the infirmary to properly bandage his hand before they got to the galley. He was also sending Balance a message to save them seats. 

\--------------------

Everything was always tense when Stinger was around, Hame reflected as she ate her dinner and glanced down at the other end of the table.

No one had really been expecting Stinger to show up for dinner. He hadn’t shown up for the ship shifts Raptor had assigned him to that day, and he skipped lunch entirely. None of that was really unusual for Stinger, but Hame sometimes wondered why they put up the pretense of waiting on him or wanting him to be just like everyone else. He clearly wasn’t, and when he was around, he said very little and just fixed people with intense, expressionless stares. 

Naaga had shown up for dinner just as everyone else was arriving. Stinger came into the galley behind him, and they’d clearly walked together. Which was weird, because she had no idea Stinger and Naaga even spoke to each other, let alone were friends. 

Then Balance made a really big deal out of the fact that he wanted Naaga and Stinger to sit with him and Raptor at one end of the table. Since when was Stingers friends with Balance and Raptor too? So they had. Balance was sitting at one end, and Raptor was next to him. Stinger was directly across from Raptor and Naaga was next to Stinger. They’d managed to neatly box Stinger in so none of the people that made Stinger twitch could sit near him. (Which, honestly, was everyone, but especially Lucky, Champ and sometimes Kotarou.)

Super weird.

Dinner passed as usual, but Hame kept shooting glances down to the other end of the table. She couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about, because Lucky and Kotarou were at her end of the table loudly discussing various fighting techniques they could use against Jark Matter lackeys. Raptor was extremely animated, which probably meant they had asked her about one of her stories. Balance and Naaga appeared to be engaged with her storytelling, because they seemed to be asking questions in all the right places (which encouraged Raptor to continue.)

Stinger did not appear to be listening at all. His eyes were distant, and he was distractedly eating. Naaga nudged him with an elbow, and he suddenly snapped to, acting like he’d been paying attention to Raptor’s tale. Naaga was eating way less than usual, moving the food around on his plate more than he was actually eating anything. 

Hame found herself next to Spada as she cleared her dishes.

“Hey,” she asked. “Is it just me or are those guys being weirder than usual?”

Spada followed her gaze to where Balance, Naaga and Stinger were still listening to Raptor, although she seemed to be wrapping up the story. 

The chef shook his head. “That’s pretty normal for them.”

“Stinger and Naaga? Since when are they friends?”

“They’re pretty good friends.”

“Okay,” Hame shot back, “Since when does Stinger sit with Balance and Naaga while they listen to Raptor talk about her latest story.”

Spada shrugged mildly. “Since now, I guess.”

Huh. Weird.

Hame would need to pay more attention.

\--------------------

“Are you sure about this?” Stinger asked between kisses, as he stripped Naaga of his shirt and backed him towards the bed. Naaga’s hand were grasping at the hem of his shirt, so he gave Naaga enough of a pause and space to strip him of his own shirt. Naaga backed up a half step and hit the bed, so he landed on the bed with a small whoosh. He looked up at Stinger, expression unreadable and hands reaching to pull him closer. 

“Yes,” Naaga replied softly, hands finally finding purchase on Stinger’s sides, fingers hot against his skin. “I trust you,” he added.

Stinger stepped into his space, knee going between his legs and on the edge of the bed, forcing Naaga to back further onto the bed. One hand threaded through Naaga’s hair and the other gently traced his cheekbone with his thumb. He leaned down and kissed him, wet and messy, just a little uncoordinated. Naaga tried to bid for dominance in the kiss, but Stinger gently bit his tongue, admonishing him, keeping the upper ground. Naaga made a needy noise in the back of his throat at that. When Stinger pulled back, Naaga’s pupils were blown wide with lust.

And _this_ , Gods, _this_ was what he could not believe about Naaga. Somehow, against all the odds, Naaga had worked his way into his life, his heart, his trust. He could suggest they do anything, in bed or out, and Naaga would trust him implicitly. How had he even earned that level of trust from another being? His chest felt tight. He just wanted to pull Naaga close and never let him go. He didn’t deserve to be all of Naaga’s firsts in this, but he was. The one moment where he had felt insecure and talked to Naaga about making this exclusive, Naaga had given him a frown and said, ‘I don’t want to do this with anyone else.’ The thought hadn’t even occurred to Naaga that there were other relationship options out there for him than Stinger and all his baggage. 

He stayed in Naaga’s space, forcing him to back all the way onto the bed. Naaga went easily, head hitting the pillow, eyes hooded as he watched Stinger. He leaned down for a wet, rough kiss, practically plundering Naaga’s mouth for a moment. Gods, he loved the way Naaga tasted, all pure water and clean air. None of the sand and grit from his home planet. 

His hands went to Naaga’s waist, undoing his belt and pants. And Naaga was definitely getting eager, because he helped Stinger remove his pants and shorts completely. Stinger smiled, drinking in the view of him, watching his erection curl up towards his stomach. Naaga’s hands reached for Stinger’s belt, his hair falling into his eyes. Stinger helped him, actually having to stand completely up to finish removing his own clothing. He quickly was back on the bed, both of them naked, and leaned down for another kiss. Their cocks slid against one another, and Naaga whined, while he felt a moan rise in the back of his own throat. How many times had he come just like this? Kissing Naaga, grinding against one another? 

Stinger pulled back, trying to steady himself. “Okay,” he said. He reached over to his nightstand and pulled open the drawer, locating and retrieving the bottle of lube. Naaga’s eyes tracked his movements, hands resting on his waist. 

“Roll over,” Stinger said softly. “And put a pillow under your hips.” When Naaga gave him a small, questioning frown, he just added, “It’s easier that way, the first time.”

Naaga complied easily, rolling over onto his stomach. He grabbed one of the pillows. (Both their pillows seemed to migrate to one bed, leaving the other bed with no pillows. They were just using a folded up blanket as a pillow in Naaga’s bed right now.) Stinger helped him situate the pillow, taking a moment (when his hand was under Naaga’s body) to give him a couple of strokes. Naaga moaned when he touched him, cock leaking and hard. 

Stinger had to reach down and squeeze his own cock to keep from coming at the damn sight of Naaga on his stomach, so incredibly trusting.

He gently nudged Naaga’s legs apart so he could kneel between them. Naaga looked back at him over his shoulder, chin resting on his arms. Stinger opened the bottle of lube, the snick suddenly extremely loud in the room that had gotten quiet with just their breathing. He ran one hand down Naaga’s back, kneading some tense muscles, soothing. Naaga did not seem nervous at all. He just looked at Stinger expectantly. He poured some of the lube over three fingers, extremely generously. 

“Naaga?” he asked.

“Go ahead. I’m okay.”

He gently spread Naaga’s cheeks a little, finger moving to the tight ring of muscle. He spread lube and gently circled with one finger. Naaga gasped, followed by a sharp inhale. He kept circling, letting him get used to the feeling. He then slowly inserted one finger to the first knuckle. Naaga gasped again, saying nothing. His forehead dropped to his arms. Stinger gently worked the finger in and out, giving him time to adjust and stretch. Naaga was hot and tight, and before Stinger knew, his finger was entirely inside.

Naaga let out a shaky breath. Stinger kept moving his finger, being sure to add more lube. He pressed kisses up Naaga’s back and his shoulder, tasting the sweat on his skin. When Naaga’s turned to look at him, his hair was sweaty and in his eyes. Stinger kissed him briefly. “Are you okay?”

A rough nod. “Keep going.”

Stinger moved his finger in and out a couple more times. When he plunged back in, he crooked his finger just right and found purchase on what he was looking for. Naaga damn-near shouted, hips flying off the pillow. “S-Stinger,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“You like that?” he asked, smiling.

“Do that again.”

He rubbed the bundle of nerves once more, causing Naaga’s hips to rock into the pillow. Stinger reached underneath him, stroking his cock once. Naaga was rock hard again.

Stinger added a second finger and more lube, slowly working the second finger in alongside the first. Naaga made a slight noise at the burn from the second finger, head pressed against the pillow for a second before looking back at Stinger again. “Stinger,” Naaga said again, and then his mouth opened in a wordless noise of pleasure as Stinger rubbed his prostate again. One hand reached underneath his own body. At first, Stinger thought he was jerking himself, but he realized that Naaga was actually doing what he had done earlier. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said, pressing a kiss to the sweat-slick skin on Naaga’s back. “Just come when you’re ready.” The last bit was a whisper.

Naaga shook his head against the pillow.

“I want you… inside.”

Gods, now Stinger had to stop himself from coming, again. “Naaga,” he said, name breathy on his lips and sounding more than a little desperate. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.” Naaga’s eyes were wide, cheeks flushed, hair clinging to his face. “I can take it.”

Stinger added more lube and a third finger. Naaga whined at the additional stretch and burn. He was so tight and hot, and those velvet walls felt amazing around his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how amazing that would feel around his cock. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes, body hot and tense. He had no idea how either one of them were going to last long enough for him to… 

He gently spread his fingers, making sure Naaga was stretched and open enough. He rubbed his prostate with his fingers once more. Naaga bit back a moan, fist tightening under his own body. He removed his fingers and Naaga whined at the loss. “It’s okay,” he said, voice hoarse and words a little nonsensical. “Just give me a second.”

Naaga was back to looking over his shoulder at him, eyes intent as he poured the lube on his cock and spread it, trying to go quickly and not overstimulate himself. 

“Stinger.”

“Naaga, I’m—“

But that was as far as he got. He pulled Naaga up onto his knees, pushing the pillow to the floor, and Naaga went quickly, hands going to the headboard of the bed for leverage. He then gently guided himself inside Naaga, slowly moving his cock in, inch by inch, giving Naaga as much time as possible to adjust. He bottomed out finally, his own balls hitting Naaga’s. 

Naaga was breathing harshly. 

“Naaga?”

“I’m good. Move!”

He didn’t need to be told that a second time. Naaga was perfection, all heat and pressure. He pulled back and then thrust in again. On the second time, he adjust his angle and Naaga moaned deeply. So he’d hit something Naaga liked. Naaga’s hips were rocking back to meet his thrusts, and he was making needy noises, Stinger’s name a whisper on his lips. 

Stinger reached around him, hand tightening on his cock and stroking downward in time with his thrusts. That was enough, because Naaga’s body tensed, and he came all over Stinger’s hand. Two thrusts later and Stinger was in the same position, coming deeply inside Naaga.

Naaga was shaking as they came down. Stinger pulled out gently and Naaga groaned, moving down onto his side on the bed. Stinger laid down behind him, pulling him close so they were completely back to chest. His arm was tight around Naaga’s waist and Naaga’s arm rested over his. Naaga hooked an ankle over his.

“Are you okay?” Stinger asked, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

Naaga rolled over in his arms, meeting him in a tired kiss. “Can we do that facing each other?”

“I take that as a yes.” He kissed him again. “Yes. We can.”

Stinger quickly found a discarded shirt on the floor (not one of the ones they had been wearing) and cleaned them as best he could, before settling completely into the bed. Naaga pulled the covers completely over them.

And honestly, as much as Stinger enjoyed the sex with Naaga, the afterglow had quickly become one of his favorite parts, just being blissed out and completely relaxed with someone else. They lazily kissed for a while, and then Naaga’s eyes closed.

Perfect.

\--------------------

“You should come to brunch.”

Stinger paused from brushing his teeth the next morning. Each dorm room on the ship had a small private shower, sink and toilet. There were public showers and baths that were bigger and had better water pressure (among other things), so the others liked to use those more. Stinger preferred the privacy of their rooms. They had taken turns showering that morning. (They could shower together in a hurry, but the small showers made that… interesting.) Naaga had gone first and was sitting on the edge of the bed, dressed in loose gray pants, a faded navy blue t-shirt and a gray hoodie. Stinger was just wearing his shorts so far. He spit out the toothpaste and walked to the door of the bathroom, giving Naaga an appraising look.

Sundays were the only days that they did not have an assigned schedule—their day off, essentially. Sometimes they ended up on a mission anyways, but nothing had come up yet that day. On true days off, Spada started cooking brunch around nine, and the others all wandered to the meal in their pajamas or comfortable clothes. Stinger found the whole idea ridiculous and had never shown up.

“Why?” Stinger asked.

Naaga shrugged. “I like eating with you.”

Stinger felt something in his chest loosen. With Naaga, his words were what he meant. Naaga wasn’t all that interested in getting him to bond with the others or make friends. Naaga really just wanted to eat with him.

“Are they going on some trip after?”

Naaga nodded. “A zoo. To see the animals on the planet.”

Stinger sighed.

Naaga stood up and crossed the room to him. “I don’t really want to go with them.” He paused, eyes flicking upward for a moment, before saying, “I’d rather spend the day with you.”

“In bed?”

A quick, shy nod.

Stinger smiled. “I can support that idea.” He exhaled forcefully. “Alright, fine. I will go to brunch, but I am not sitting anywhere near Lucky.”

“You should let Kotarou sit next to you if he wants.”

“Naaga—“

Naaga silenced him quickly with a brief kiss. “Don’t think about it too much. He looks up to you.”

Stinger sighed again. He couldn’t silence his own fears about Kotarou thinking of him as an older brother, could not think of himself in that role. He wanted the kid to think about his own brother. He wanted Kotarou to not make the same mistakes that Scorpio had made towards Stinger. Gods, he wished he still had an older brother. He wished things had happened differently. He thought back to the man his brother had been before, and he wanted to be just like him. For him, Scorpio could do no wrong. He was strong and brave and everything he wanted to be. And that dream went away.

_“Aniki! Why did you betray us?”_

_A cold smirk, turned back._

_“Aniki!!”_

“You aren’t your brother.”

Stinger looked up sharply, meeting Naaga’s gaze. Naaga looked determined. “I know,” he replied softly, leaning forward to kiss Naaga again.

He walked around Naaga and pulled out the bottom drawer in the chest of drawers in his room. The bottom drawer held clothes that he rarely wore, some of which he had not worn at all since leaving Needle for good. He pulled out a soft black t-shirt, worn through with a few tiny holes, and a brown hand-knitted cardigan. His caretaker had made the sweater for him. The desert nights got cold. He grabbed the pants he loosely wore as pajamas from the footboard of his bed.

“Is that appropriate?”

Naaga nodded, eyes softening.

Stinger quickly got dressed.

“Do you own slippers?” Naaga asked as they left the room.

“No,” Stinger replied, fine with the fact that he was barefoot.

\--------------------

Spada was more than a little shocked to see Stinger at brunch, the one meal Stinger had never helped with or attended. He was even more shocked that Stinger was actually wearing comfortable clothes, like they all did for brunch. He’d never seen Stinger in any of the clothing he was wearing, and he did not miss the fact that Stinger was barefoot. (He wondered which holiday they could use as an excuse to buy Stinger a lot of pairs of slippers.)

Naaga was at the end of the table and Stinger was next to him. They were angled together a little closer than normal. Every so often, Naaga would shift uncomfortably in his chair. Spada caught Stinger gently touch Naaga’s knee once. Well, the two were good friends, and who was Spada to judge the boundaries of their friendship?

Kotarou bounced into the galley, still wearing his pajamas. The kid saw an open seat next to Stinger and made a beeline for it, popping into the chair, pleased with himself. Spada had been expecting Stinger to not react or get that tense, hard look on his face. Stinger did neither. He mildly glanced to Kotarou and went back to nursing the mug of coffee he’d been drinking.

The kid loaded his plate up and, in between bites, started talking animatedly to Stinger about all kinds of topics. Comic books, his friends from school, some contest Lucky entered, how Garou let him go on evening walkies with him… Stinger was not exactly encouraging the conversation, but he wasn’t actively discouraging it either. He just continued to drink coffee and nod or make noise in all the appropriate places. 

If Stinger was being uncharacteristically mild-mannered, the fact that Naaga was witnessing everything with a small smile was even more uncharacteristic. 

“Hey,” Kotarou said towards the end of the meal. “Are you coming to the zoo with us?”

Stinger shook his head. “Not today. I have to take care of some things here.”

“Oh.” Kotarou looked disappointed, but then brightened with, “Maybe next Sunday.”

“Maybe,” Stinger replied noncommittally. 

Kotarou made an excited noise and scampered off to clear his dishes. 

Spada caught Stinger and Naaga exchange a long glance.

Which made Spada think they were purposely ditching the group to spend time together.

Huh.

\--------------------

Later that afternoon, they lay in bed together, tired and spent. Stinger was tracing nonsense patterns on Naaga’s shoulder. Naaga was quiet, one hand resting on his own stomach and the other gently tracing a path up and down Stinger’s arm. 

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

Naaga turned to his side to face, before he said softly, “I… I think I love you.”

Stinger paused, fully taking in what Naaga had said.

“Naaga,” he replied, voice almost a whisper. “Love is messy and hard, and lots of work.”

“I know. But love also brings out the best in people.”

“Naaga—“

“Stinger. You don’t have to say anything. I know how difficult this is for you.”

Because Naaga knew he had been hurt too many times. Because Naaga knew he was afraid of having a new family. Because Naaga knew he was terrified of losing everything again. And now… Naaga didn’t even want him to say that he loved him, because he knew how much that scared him. Naaga would just love him and never expect him to love him back.

Why deny things to the one person he couldn’t keep secrets from?

“I love you too,” he said simply.

And that was the truth. Naaga’s smile was genuine and brilliant. 

_Pain is real. But so is hope._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! So much love after the last chapter! My readers are the absolute best! I really appreciate all those reading, commenting and leaving kudos. Thanks for all your continuing support in what is quickly becoming a behemoth of a fic. You all are the best!
> 
> Suffice it to say, I have lots of ideas for future chapters (and not all are sunshine and unicorns for our heroes), and I am finding myself writing chapters, and then re-working to make sure they fit with the episodes. (That was the original goal and I'm sticking with that for the time being.) Can't guarantee a timeline between updates, but perhaps every 1-2 episodes? Lots of love! <3 You guys are awesome!


	6. Small Stars in Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You’re going with them and nothing you say can convince me otherwise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Space 12 (and also mild spoilers for Space 12.) Lots of fluff ahead. Enjoy!

**6/ Small Stars in Darkness**   
_Even the smallest star shines in the darkness._

“You’re going with them and nothing you say can convince me otherwise.”

Spada tried to slow down loading the dishes into the cleaner so he could hear exactly what Shou Lonpou was saying to Stinger. Another Sunday. Another brunch. Stinger hadn’t actually shown up for brunch, but he had appeared in the galley after everyone had finished eating. Spada had put some food aside for him at Naaga’s request (and, honestly, he just made a habit of putting food aside for Stinger now anyways, so Naaga didn’t even need to ask.) Stinger had just been finishing eating when their commander appeared in the galley again. 

The day had been planned like any other. The only difference was a smaller group was going on the outing. Funnily enough, Kotarou had been the one to suggest the amusement park, and he was not even going today—he was down on the surface spending the day with his brother and family. Champ and Raptor were uplinking to the Rebellion database today to download updates and run diagnostics. Balance was building something elaborate in one of the maintenance bays, which he claimed was for their continuing fight against Jark Matter (or, knowing Balance, he could also be building a fun-time obstacle course for someone’s birthday. Either way.) Garou was actually nocturnal and preferred to sleep during the day. So that left himself, Lucky, Hame and Naaga for the trip.

And now Stinger. Apparently.

Stinger said nothing. His mouth hardened into a tight line, and Spada would have sworn he could see him twitching in anger, blood vessel throbbing in his temple. 

_“You should go on the trip. Get to know the others.”_

_“I’m not doing that.”_

_“Having fun won’t kill you.”_

_“That’s not fun.”_

_“You need to act like you’re a part of this team. You’re going.”_

_“Do you have any idea how ridiculous those places are? I’d rather—“_

_“Oh, I’m sure you’d rather find an abandoned world and fight a pack of Death Worms.” A pause. “Let’s put it this way. You go on the trip or I start enforcing where you need to be on the schedule.”_

_“I go where I need to be.”_

_“You do whatever you want and we both know it.”_

_“I’m trying—“_

_“Look. I don’t really have a problem with you doing what you want, because whatever you’re doing is helping this team or getting more intel on Jark Matter.” A sigh. “The others know you’re a strong fighter, and that you’ll fight with them and for them. What’s the harm in getting to know them?”_

And that led them to the present.

“Fine,” Stinger all but growled through clenched teeth.

“Excellent!” Shou Lonpou stood up. He turned to Spada. “Make sure he actually goes and doesn’t ditch everyone once you get to the surface, would you?”

Spada nodded slowly. Shou Lonpou looked pleased with himself as he walked out of the galley.

Stinger was still sitting at the table, staring at his plate, eyes wide and breathing shaky. He almost looked like he was… panicking? Oh geez. Spada didn’t know much about Stinger in general, but being a spy for as long as he had been couldn’t have been easy. Stinger might not have wanted to pal around with them, but he certainly didn’t want to hurt them, which is what he had to do to ensure his cover with Jark Matter. And he never clarified the night on Champ’s home planet, although, at this point, Spada suspected there was more to the story. There was always more to the story with Stinger. In short, even if Stinger didn’t say anything, Spada could tell that terrible things had happened to him. He hoped Stinger was opening up to Naaga and wasn’t completely alone with those memories, but seriously? The commander didn’t seem to realize how hard something simple like going to an amusement park was on Stinger.

“Hey,” Spada said, glad that Stinger slowly turned to face him. “You don’t need to go. Naaga and I will cover for you. We’ll tell the commander you were there. You can just hide in Naaga’s room or something.”

Stinger just shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” Spada asked.

“Lucky,” Stinger choked out. 

“Don’t worry about him. I can get Hame to follow my lead, as long as she had fun, she won’t really care whether you were or weren’t there. We’ll just report back to the commander when Lucky isn’t around.”

Stinger shook his head again. “It won’t work. Lucky will let it slip.”

Spada crossed the room and sat down across from Stinger at the table. He felt sympathetic towards Stinger. Naaga once told Spada in passing that they were expecting too much from Stinger, too fast. He needed more space and time to heal. So many of his wounds were still fresh and bleeding. And Spada believed Naaga was right. Stinger reminded Spada of a scared animal—try to corner him or get him to come out too fast and he’d retreat forever. That’s why Spada tried so hard not to ask Stinger questions, just let him come and go, doing what he felt like he needed to. Stinger helping prepare a meal with no explanation was better than him never showing up for a meal. 

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t have a choice. I have to go on the stupid trip.”

Stinger sounded like he was having an internal revolt against not having options. And for him, taking this ridiculous deal to ensure that he continued to have choices in the future was more important than putting up with something that got under his skin. Dammit, Commander. Scared animal. He was cornered and was now going to either lash out or retreat into himself.

“It’ll be fine,” Spada replied, immediately switching into optimist mode. “The others will likely leave you alone. Lucky and Hame will be distracted by the rides and sights. You’ll probably be able to just find a spot under a tree for the day.” He hoped. He was already figuring out how to run interference. A lot of jumping in front of people and being enthusiastic. 

Stinger roughly pushed back from the table and took his dishes to the cleaner. “Just leave them there,” Spada said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Spada watched him leave the dishes on the counter, and then distractedly leave the galley, running a hand through his hair, looking positively miserable. He let out a long breath. Naaga was right. They needed to give Stinger more time, or they’d push him away forever. Dammit. He stood up. He needed to finish getting the dishes in the cleaner, and figure out how in the hell he was going to make this trip work without further isolating Stinger.

\--------------------

“I though you weren’t going,” Naaga asked, frowning. 

Stinger just looked agitated as he paced Naaga’s room. The room was not all that big to begin with, so the frustrated energy was palpable. “I knew this was going to happen eventually,” Stinger muttered as he paced. “At some point, he was going to insist I join the team for something other than a mission.” He made a vaguely violent gesture, sort of punching the air, before returning his clenched fist to his side. “Once the other Kyuurangers appeared, I thought I’d be called back then, but then Elidron happened, and then I broke cover, and then it’s been weeks since then.”

Naaga frowned. Stinger sounded like he was talking about two different things. Partly how he felt like Shou Lonpou requiring him to participate in something trivial was long overdue. Knowing their commander, this particular order had likely been a long time coming. Naaga and Spada could insist that Stinger be left behind for a number of reasons—not feeling well, Balance needed his help, he had a lead on the surface he was pursuing—and Shou Lonpou would relent, but that would also hurt Stinger’s pride. He fought his own battles and bristled at someone coming to his aid. Another, much larger, part of his anger was about being found by Rebellion after being alone for so long, and then immediately getting sent back into Jark Matter, once again alone. Stinger did what he wanted because he was still so angry about being sent away as a spy.

“Apparently, I need to get to know everyone.”

Again, not because he was opposed to getting to know the others, but because he was still angry and still terrified of losing more people. If he didn’t get to know anyone, it would hurt less when they were gone.

“You go to know me,” Naaga said mildly.

Stinger stopped mid-pace and looked at Naaga, where he was sitting in the window seat. “You’re different,” he said after a long pause.

“How?”

Stinger was close enough that Naaga could reach out and take his hand. He moved his legs from the seat, making room for Stinger. He didn’t move right away, just gently moved his thumb over Naaga’s knuckles. He finally sighed, sitting down on the other side of the window seat. 

“You’ve never asked me for anything I couldn’t give you,” Stinger said softly. He leaned back against the window frame, a tiny smile quirking his lips. “And you’re not loud as hell,” he added.

Naaga squeezed his hand, a warm feeling running through him at those words. 

“The trip won’t be so bad,” Naaga said after a while. Stinger looked up at him, face unreadable, but he was running his thumb over Naaga’s knuckles again. “We’re only going for a few hours. Just say you don’t like rides and then you really won’t have to interact all day.”

“Have you been to one of these places?”

Naaga nodded. “Once, with Balance, on a planet where we stole some Jark Matter gold coins.”

Stinger looked like he really wanted to ask about the heist and the gold coins, but decided to keep on the topic at hand. “How was it?” He paused. “The park, not the robbery.”

“The park was fine. Nothing remarkable. Some people like thrills like that. I don’t.” Naaga shrugged. “The robbery was also fine, but we had to trade the gold coins for safe passage to another system.”

“I bet that drove Balance crazy.”

“Yeah. He was pretty upset. Until we stole some Jark Matter gems on the next planet. Then he let the whole thing go.”

Stinger genuinely smiled at that. “I sometimes forget that you and Balance billed yourselves as professional thieves for eight months.”

Naaga shrugged again. “I’m glad we’re Kyuurangers now.” He paused. “The park will be okay. Just remember, you don’t like rides.”

“Fine, but I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to.”

Stinger leaned forward, and their lips met in a soft, sweet kiss. As much as Naaga liked the other things they did, he especially loved kisses like this, just comforting and reassuring, just them being together, expressing an emotion that was hard to put into words. Stinger was still in his space, lips still close to his, when he whispered, “Can we just spend every day in bed together?”

Naaga felt himself involuntarily huff a small laugh. Things like that happened more and more around Stinger, just spontaneous displays, nothing he had to practice or force. He felt so guarded around the others, trying to read a situation and figure out the correct response. Stinger never demanded he figure something out—he just expected him to go with what came naturally. Perhaps that was another reason he liked kissing and sex with Stinger—another time when he did not have to calculate emotions and could just go with what he wanted, what he felt. 

“We’d never get anything done,” Naaga replied. 

Stinger pulled back, smiling. 

“We need to go meet the others.”

The smile faded and some of the stormy expression returned, but not as badly as before. Naaga figured that had to count for something, right?

\--------------------

Spada was not sure what happened, but everything was working out so he was just going to go with the situation. Everyone arrived down in the Voyager Bay on time. Stinger and Naaga arrived together, which did not surprise him. (Or Hame, for that matter. Lucky didn’t really seem to notice.) On the ride down to the surface, Stinger was silent. Not hostile, just not saying anything, which was completely in character. Naaga was in what Spada liked to call polite disinterest mode. He was actively listening and occasionally responding, but was definitely not engaging with the same level of enthusiasm from Lucky and Hame. 

When they actually got down to the surface and inside the park, Stinger had just said something noncommittal about not liking rides. At which point, Lucky had clapped him on the shoulder, said “You’ll change your mind,” and set off with Hame. 

Yeah, Lucky hadn’t really learned yet that Stinger did not change his mind.

What none of them realized before arriving was that this particular park had a large lake installed in the middle of the park, and all the attractions were situated around the lake. Granted, the lake was obviously constructed and not naturally occurring, but still pretty. Stinger had slowly gravitated towards the lake and was now leaning against the railing, staring out at the water. 

They had gone on a couple of the rides, and Naaga went with them. On a Sunday afternoon and one of the few amusement parks not abandoned because of Jark Matter (and in an area not under Jark Matter control), the queues were long and just going on a few rides took a couple of hours. In usual Naaga fashion, he seemed more like he was humoring them than actually enjoying himself. The truth of the matter was he could have actually been having fun and no one would have any idea. Although Naaga did explain to them why rides such as rollercoasters evoked a physical response. Which Spada knew, subconsciously, but wasn’t sure that needed to be explained to anyone.

Hame had given him a confused frown, while Lucky just patted his shoulder and said, “Cool, right?”

Spada considered Hame to be a close friend at this point in time, and he liked Lucky and had no problem putting up with his antics. But a piece of him was starting to see why Stinger actively avoided engaging with him. Naaga also did not seem to have an issue with Lucky, just more like the pair of them talked at each other instead of to each other. Stinger took the time to understand and acknowledge Naaga, which was probably why the pair of them were such close friends. 

“We have time to get a snack and then another ride or two before we have to head back,” Spada reminded Lucky and Hame. They were trailing behind Naaga as they went to check in with Stinger.

“What about the haunted house?” Hame asked.

“Aren’t those kind of cheesy?” Spada responded.

“This one is supposed to be super scary!”

“Yeah,” Lucky added. “The brochure says so!” He was pointing to something about the haunted house and Hame was looking at it, agreeing. 

Ah, enthusiasm. Spada didn’t really want to break their bubble by telling them that all haunted houses billed themselves as the scariest thing ever and most were anything but, relying on cheap gags to get a quick jump out of people. 

He could hear parts of Stinger’s and Naaga’s conversation as he approached.

“They built one of these around a lake?” Stinger was asking.

“They built the lake too,” Naaga replied.

Stinger didn’t outright frown, but his eyebrow twitched a little. 

“There’s a ferry that goes around the lake,” Naaga told him. “Want to go on it?”

No response and Stinger just looked out over the water. Naaga didn’t look frustrated with the lack of response, just followed Stinger’s gaze back out across the lake. Stinger, who had such a bad reaction to coming here in the first place, would never admit he wanted to go on a ride.

Well, they were a team. The Kyuutamas chose them to fight together. Time to take control of the situation and give Stinger something he wanted without making it look like that was the case. 

“We’re going to get food,” Spada said as they all gathered. Stinger turned from the railing, looking mildly but also uninterested. “These two want to go to the haunted house,” he said, gesturing towards Lucky and Hame. “But maybe we can end with the ferry?”

“Oh!” Hame jumped on the idea. “That would be fun!”

“Awesome,” Lucky added.

That was easy.

He sent Lucky and Hame off to get snacks.

“Haunted house?” Stinger asked. 

Spada had to refrain from making a comment. Stinger was actually voluntarily engaging in mindless chitchat. Granted, he waited until Lucky and Hame were off doing something else, but still. Maybe that was a sign that Stinger was making progress.

“Don’t bother telling them it will be anything but scary. They’re set on it.”

“The school kids used to do one of those on my home planet. The scariest thing was how much noise they made before jumping out.”

Imagine that. Stinger’s planet had a school with kids to put on a ridiculous haunted house.

“Want to go through the haunted house and the ferry?” Spada asked him.

Stinger shrugged, but didn’t reply.

Naaga nudged him. “If you go through the haunted house, you can watch the others be scared while you’re bored.”

Stinger narrowed his eyes in a _you think that little of me?_ look, but then clearly thought more about the scenario, decided he would actually enjoy that, and just nodded. 

Which ended up being the exact reason why Spada was bringing Stinger and Naaga to any haunted house he found himself going through for the rest of his life. Hame managed to freak herself out before even entering and had Stinger and Naaga go first. Both of whom could predict when someone was about to pop out—around a corner, out of a coffin, from the ceiling, anywhere. They also just stared at the poor actors, who had no idea what to do with patrons that didn’t respond by screaming and running forward. One room had blood on the walls, which made Hame squeak while Stinger just observed that it looked nothing like real blood.

On the ferry, their last stop for the day, Stinger was sitting on the edge of the bench by the railing, head resting on the railing, staring at the water.

He actually looked content.

Spada had no idea what the days ahead would bring for any of them, but he hoped they’d all be able to find small moments of contentment. 

\--------------------

“Naaga? Where are we going?”

“Trust me.”

That was the only response Stinger had gotten out of Naaga for the last thirty minutes. They both had the afternoon and night off, which meant that they would get to spend time together without getting drawn into whatever trips or nonsense the others were planning. (And at least they’d mostly left him alone to look at the lake at the park yesterday. Planets having enough water to not only grow plants and hydrate their people, but also to just build random lakes or pools wherever they wanted was still relatively new for him. Basic military training for him had included how to swim, but they had just one giant pool filled with murky water. Basically all they could spare to make sure their soldiers didn’t drown. Oceans, lakes, rivers… all of that was new for him to see.)

When Naaga asked him if he wanted to spend their time off on the surface, he’d agreed, not sure what Naaga had planned. And Naaga had not said. They’d taken a voyager to the surface and landed just outside a wooded area. They’d now been hiking for ten minutes. Naaga had brought two small packs, and Stinger was carrying one. He had no idea what was in the pack, but it didn’t weigh much.

“We’re almost there,” Naaga added.

Good to know. 

Stinger just followed him through the rough trail in the forest. He glanced up. The sun was shining through the trees, small golden patches appearing on the forest floor. Birds were chirping high above. The day was warm with a cool breeze, perfect spring weather. The air was damp with an earthy, woody smell. Before joining Rebellion and leaving Needle, he’d never even imagined that there could be this much water and plant life on a planet. He was so used to sand and scorching wind and a dry, never-ending heat. Water had to be rationed and was a precious resource. So just being in this forest was surreal. This was breathtakingly beautiful. And being outside without having to be completely covered felt amazing. At this point, he didn’t even care where Naaga was leading, because he wanted to drink in the scenery. 

The sound of running water started to come into sharp focus. Naaga glanced over his shoulder as the rough trail opened into a clearing. Stinger felt his jaw drop as he walked around Naaga to stare. The woods opened into a small clearing with a waterfall. The stream ran out from the waterfall into the forest and there was a small pool surrounded by muddy beach and rocks. And lots of green. The water was clear and sparkling under the sunlight.

“Is this… okay?”

He turned. Naaga was gazing at him intently, expression unsure. 

When he didn’t reply immediately, Naaga continued, “You seemed to really like the lake yesterday, so Balance helped me find this place. I said it was to find safe places.” He took a breath, and then, “Jark Matter hasn’t entered this area for resources, and no one lives around here, so it would be quiet.”

“Naaga,” Stinger replied, getting into his space and kissing him. “This is perfect.”

Naaga’s hands were on his waist and he looked a little relieved.

“I brought food, and a tent, so we can stay overnight if we want.” Naaga shrugged a little. “I’ve never really been camping before, so I’m not sure exactly what to do.”

Stinger smiled a little. “My entire childhood was about surviving in the wild. I think we can figure it out.” He paused. “Besides, there’s no rats out here.”

Naaga’s eyes narrowed. “When you say rats, you don’t mean the same thing as everyone else.”

“No. They were huge. Pretty foul. Good meat in a pinch.”

Even Naaga could not hide the small frown that conveyed what he thought of that. So he deflected with, “Never saw those. Balance and I saw some huge lizards on a tropical planet. We were trying to steal some Jark Matter pearls. Didn’t work out.”

Stinger just kissed him again. “Let’s set up camp and then figure out what we want to do.”

Setting up camp took very little time. The tent was pretty much a pop-up, and Naaga had brought lightweight sleeping bags, which would be perfect in this weather with their combined body heat. The food was not anything that needed to be warmed or cooled, so they did not have to worry about building a fire. (Although Stinger probably would anyways. He could build a fire in a lot of weather conditions, including rain, with no matches. And he didn’t need a Kyuutama to do it, although that was convenient. He’d grown up around small fires for warmth, bonfires, cooking fires… there was something incredibly peaceful about watching a fire burn, the smoke lazily drifting to the sky, the crackle and pop of the wood.) 

Stinger ended up standing at the end of the pool, watching the water ripple around the rocks and splash onto the shore. Naaga walked up next to him. 

“We can go in, if you want,” he said softly. “The water’s not deep and fine for swimming.”

“You swim?” Stinger asked mildly, giving Naaga a sidelong glance.

Naaga shrugged. “Basic sport skill everyone was expected to accomplish by age six.” He returned Stinger’s glance. “You?”

He nodded. “Not at age six, though. Military training.”

He just turned towards Naaga, one hand going to his waist and the other threading through his hair, pulling him close. “Thank you,” he whispered, before going in to kiss Naaga. They met in a wet, open-mouthed kiss. He plunged in immediately, running his tongue against Naaga’s, staying dominant in the kiss. Naaga’s hands were on his waist, searching for purchase, a small noise rising in the back of his throat. A shiver went down Stinger’s spine. Part of him wanted to continue kissing and see where those kisses took them. Another part of him would regret not going in the stream while they had the chance.

Stinger broke the kiss and backed away a little. Naaga looked a little dazed. Their jackets and shoes were already back in the tent, so he just stripped his shirt off, letting the garment land on a nearby rock. Naaga swallowed hard.

“We’re going in, right?” Stinger asked. He undid his belt and unzipped his pants, stripping down to his shorts. He glanced over his shoulder, wanting to watch Naaga take off his own clothes. Gods, he felt like he’d never get over how much he wanted to run his hands over Naaga’s body. All that gorgeous soft skin and lean muscle. 

He watched as Naaga started to undress and then stepped into the water. He padded out towards the middle of the small pool, the water only getting a little higher than waist deep. Once he was sure Naaga had stripped down to his own shorts and was coming in the water too, he quickly ducked under the water and came up. This water was cool and clear and unlike anything he’d ever been submerged in before. Training had taught him to open his eyes under water in dirt-filled water, but this water… that would be nothing. He moved his arms a little, relishing the feeling of the coolness against his skin. 

Naaga joined him, looking a little shy, but also very pleased. 

“How deep is it near the waterfall?” he asked.

“Not very,” was the reply.

Stinger took Naaga’s hand and led him as they waded towards the waterfall. The rushing water splashed against them, getting Naaga’s hair wet. He looked up to the waterfall. “This is amazing,” he muttered. 

Naaga’s hand was on his waist. Stinger reached towards him, smoothing the wet hair back from his face and meeting him for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. Even kissing in the shower did not prepare him for the feelings as they kissed while the waterfall splashed them. The cool water was in direct contract to their heated skin. Naaga was flushed in spite of the water, responding eagerly as Stinger just plundered his mouth, drinking in the taste of him. They broke apart to breathe and then went back, Stinger getting a hand on the small of Naaga’s back and pulling them flush, bodies completely touching. 

Stinger took advantage of Naaga’s gasp for breath to leave those soft lips for a moment, kissing down his neck and to his collarbone. He latched on, sucking a bruise into the sweet skin there, tasting sweat and clear water and something else that was uniquely Naaga. He whined, nails digging slightly into Stinger’s back. Stinger moved back to his lips, continuing the uncoordinated kiss, Naaga eagerly kissing him back, meeting him. 

When they broke apart again, Stinger rested his forehead against Naaga’s for a moment, practically laughing.

“I don’t deserve you,” Stinger said softly.

A small smile spread on Naaga’s face. “I don’t deserve you either, but we have each other.”

Gods, he was so in love with this man. And that was it, wasn’t it? He told Naaga he loved him. They hadn’t said anything like that to each other since, but perhaps the words didn’t matter as much as actions did. He found himself making beds, putting away clothes and trying to keep things neat. He found himself willing to do things because Naaga liked them. (Like drink that awful tea.) And Naaga made sure he took care of himself, and listened to anything Stinger was willing to share, good or bad. Love was hard work and messy, sure, but was also the small kindnesses, the contentment, the willingness to just be with another person. 

They ended up laying out on the rocks until the sun started to dip behind the horizon. The late afternoon sun dried them as they lazily kissed, hands roaming but nothing going much further than that. As the sun truly began to set, they were in the tent. Never before in his life would Stinger have referred to sex with someone as making love, but that evening might have changed his mind. The quiet breaths and gasps as Stinger entered him, the slow pace, slowly building to something, but no rush, just taking the time to explore each other’s bodies, press open-mouthed kisses to sweat-drenched skin, tasting salt and water and sunlight. Naaga had come untouched between their bodies and Stinger followed him at almost the same moment, never before considering how coming with someone felt like… truly being in sync with that person.

Just before dark, Stinger built a small fire on the shore of the lake. Stinger was leaning against one of the rocks, Naaga curled next to his side, head resting on his shoulder. A blanket was on the ground underneath them. They’d dressed in clothes that were typically pajamas for them, bare feet warmed by the fire. The stream continued to bubble and rush, and the fire crackled, sparks rising into the night. Stinger’s arm was around Naaga’s shoulder, and Naaga gently threaded their fingers together.

“I’m glad you went yesterday,” Naaga said softly.

Stinger just squeezed his hand, pressing a kiss to his temple. “It wasn’t bad.” He let out a long breath. “I just don’t like Shou Lonpou picking weird times to act like he’s in charge.”

“The others care about you. They just don’t know you.”

The others, including Champ. He never had clarified what happened that night on Champ’s home planet. Even knowing that he was a spy and a Kyuutama would not choose a murderer… those two facts were enough for Lucky and most of the others to trust him. Even Champ to a degree, even if the android bristled at him giving orders or them speaking to each other. But even with that, the truth was not always better than the partial story that was known. Stinger was supposed to have been on that planet making inroads with Jark Matter and stumbled across something much worse. 

“Ikaagen’s gone,” Naaga added.

Stinger took a deep breath. “Yes. But Madaako is out there. And we have no idea how many governors and retainers, and the Shogun. Or why they’re so obsessed with this planet.”

“The Argo might help.”

“If we ever figure out what it does.” He paused. “Let’s not talk about this. I want to hear about these gold coins you and Balance had to trade for safe passage.”

Naaga huffed a small laugh and started to give him more details on that story.

Stinger listened, watching the fire continue to crackle, embers flying into the night sky and disappearing. Their latest victory was a small one, but still a victory, like defeating Elidron had been. They would slowly but surely make progress. 

Then why did he feel like this was the calm before the storm?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the continuing comments, kudos and hits! My readers are the absolute best and I am so glad to have an awesome bunch following this little work that had slowly spiraled into a novelette. :) Keep letting me know you're out there! And feel free to make suggestions! I have a ton of ideas for future chapters, so depending on how Space 13/14 play out, I could be going one of two ways. :D
> 
> And... next week, Scorpio is back (and with a really scary monster form!) All I can say is, one, the Yuki Kubota fan in me hopes he doesn't stay in monster form ALL the time, and two, OMG, more angst material! Have an awesome week everyone!


	7. the Best Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stinger should have been asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after Space 13. Pretty big spoilers ahead, so turn back until you get a chance to watch from the fansub group (or other source) of your choice. :)

**7/ the Best Meditation**  
 _Never stop looking up._

Stinger should have been asleep.

Everyone else was sleeping. And yet, here he was, wide awake. 

He could not get his mind to slow down and stop running enough to even relax. Hell, he’d been able to reconcile with Champ, sort of, which was technically a good thing. He purposely stopped thinking about what would happen if they actually caught his brother, because they both had very different outcomes for that eventual fight. Stinger had even said he’d defeat Scorpio, but if Kotarou could tell that wasn’t true, anyone could tell that wasn’t true. Even being on the surface with Champ for a few days, tracking Scorpio had gone surprisingly better than he thought it would. They’d returned to the ship just before dinner that night to restock their supplies and head out in the morning, slowly making progress.

Why did he still feel itchy, irritated and unsettled about the whole thing? 

He knew why. Scorpio was on Earth. Scorpio was the assassin that Jark Matter sent in to take care of insurgents. They were the insurgents. And now all the others knew about Scorpio, not just Naaga and Kotarou. (And, yeah, Shou Lonpou had already known.) He absolutely had not wanted anyone outside the people he told to know about his brother and now they did. He hated that. But everything would have come out once he figured out the venom anyways, and he’d rather they hear things from him and not the Commander. He hated thinking that they would talk about it, or feel pity for him, or be angry with him for keeping that secret. The anger he could live with, but he could not stand the idea of their sympathy or pity. His brother was his problem, and no one else’s, in spite of what Champ might have said. Stinger was not letting Champ interfere once he found Scorpio.

He could remember his home planet being destroyed, everyone he had ever known dead, Scorpio off with Jark Matter. His Kyuutama had come to him, giving him enough strength to survive, to figure out a way off Needle. Even off his home planet, on worlds filled with people and Jark Matter minions, he had no one, was still alone. And then Shou Lonpou with the Seiza Blaster, and he spent so much time trying to center himself, not just lash out in desperation and anger. Shou Lonpou had insisted he go through official Rebellion training before he went into Jark Matter as a spy. He already had a reputation for disregarding authority and that would be used to get him in. Even then, trailing Scorpio and finding out that Scorpio poisoned the doctor in the Taurus system. He hoped, _hoped_ , he could save Scorpio and wouldn’t have to stop him. Now, he had to find Scorpio and then stop Champ from killing him.

He knew, logically, that he was on edge because he was not ready to accept any help. So, as far as he could see the situation, he’d just be on edge forever because he was not accepting assistance. Hell, he’d promised Kotarou he wouldn’t do anything he would regret. He would regret not trying to save his brother and no one, not even Champ, was getting in the way of that. 

Naaga was asleep. Had been asleep for an hour.

After dinner that night, they had come back to Stinger’s room. Naaga seemed to sense that he just wanted quiet and space after the hell of a week he’d had. They had kissed lazily for a bit, never going past simple touches, and pure closeness, more a hello than anything else after the days apart. After, Naaga had ended up in one of the window seats, his datapad balanced on his knees, as he went through some of the new security protocols that Balance had written, double-checking them for errors. (The way Stinger understood their process, Balance went fast and ended up with a lot of unnecessary code that could be exploited, so Naaga was coming behind him and getting rid of anything excess that could leave gaps.) Stinger did not want to write reports about the incidents that week, but he did them anyways. Get it over with. He had his own datapad on his bed as he wrote up the bare minimum he could get away with for all the reports.

Now, he really wanted to toss and turn, but that would wake up Naaga. So he settled for moving as little as possible, but could not resist small things. Like touching Naaga’s hair and brushing the strands away from his forehead. Or toying with the hem of Naaga’s shirt, fingers touching soft skin. He stayed as still as he could on his side, watching Naaga’s even breathing and feeling slightly jealous. Part of him wanted to wake Naaga up and press him into the mattress, have some kind of sex, hope the physical release would be enough to let him get a few hours of sleep. But he didn’t want to do that to Naaga. Besides, they were together and he didn’t want sex to become the default mode. He really just wanted to be close to Naaga, because Naaga was calming and centering, and he didn’t have to worry about an agenda or differing opinion. 

Naaga stirred.

Shit. He’d just woken Naaga up.

“Stinger?” Naaga asked, his voice hoarse.

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered. 

Naaga opened his eyes and looked at him. “You’re awake.” He sounded very much like a person annoyed he was not asleep right now.

“I’m sorry.”

A head shake. “What’s wrong?”

“Just can’t get to sleep.” He paused. “I can go sleep somewhere else.”

The mere suggestion nearly killed him, especially after the days apart. He’d barely slept on the surface. He could leave the room and Naaga would be able to sleep, but he’d be lying awake all night, just counting down until dawn when he needed to go back to the surface anyways. He’d also be cold and lonely. He’d gotten very used to the warmth of another person in bed with him. Usually, just the warmth from Naaga’s body and his even breathing was enough to lull Stinger into sleep. 

“That won’t help either one of us.”

Stinger blinked. Was Naaga implying that he didn’t sleep well when Stinger wasn’t around? And now that he thought about it, Naaga had been dragging a little at dinner.

Naaga sighed, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes. “Your problem is you never do anything before bed to promote going to sleep.”

“Oh, come on, we usually—“

“I’m not talking about sex.” That shut-up Stinger. And they did usually have sex before bed, so had Stinger come to rely on the physical exertion to go to sleep? Still, there were nights he could recall, even recently, where they had just gone to bed and he hadn’t had this amount of trouble getting to sleep. Body warmth and even breathing. Although, he did like to watch Naaga sleep, so part of the reason for not trying to go to sleep when Naaga did was to fulfill that desire.

Stinger propped himself up on one arm, not quite sitting up, but more on an equal footing with Naaga. He glanced at the clock above the door. Almost midnight standard time. Naaga looked tired, and a little bit frustrated, and Stinger felt guilty. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again, softly.

Naaga shook his head. “Don’t apologize.” He paused. “I think we need a better routine for going to sleep.”

Stinger frowned a little. What was Naaga getting at here? “Explain,” he said slowly.

Naaga shrugged. “Before… everything happened… I did the same things every night before going to bed and those things were then associated with sleep, helping me relax and go to sleep.”

“Such as?”

“I used to take baths at night.” Another shrug. “Drink tea. Read.” He paused. “It’s different here, with you. I like being around you, so it’s not hard to sleep.” Unspoken was how hard the last few nights had been, being apart. 

Stinger let out a long breath, sitting up completely. The blankets fell to their waists. “I have been sleeping better when I’m with you. Being on the surface is necessary, but I miss you.” He paused. “I’m just thinking too much.”

“Your brother?”

Stinger met Naaga’s gaze. “The others knowing.” 

Naaga reached out, palm cupping his cheek while his thumb traced his cheekbone. Stinger covered Naaga’s hand with his own, turning so he could press a kiss to Naaga’s palm. He lowered their hands, threading their fingers together. 

“It will be okay,” Naaga whispered.

“How? I don’t want to kill Scorpio. And Champ will if I don’t.”

“Champ won’t kill anyone.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’ve read about Doctor Anton, the man who built him. He believed in justice and protecting others and that’s how he programmed Champ. Scorpio may have done terrible things for Jark Matter, but if there’s even a part of him that wants to be saved, Champ will see that.”

“I want Champ to let me do this alone, but he won’t.”

“He’s protecting you too.” Naaga shifted closer to him in the bed, their bodies touching. He glanced away for a long moment and then his eyes flicked back up to meet Stinger’s. “Your brother is not your fault. He made his own choices and now he’s a Jark Matter retainer. That’s not a reflection on you.”

“Champ will get hurt. You’ll all get hurt if you try to help me. I have a chance to get through to him.”

“You’ll get hurt if you try to go alone.”

“I can’t—“

“Stinger,” Naaga cut him off. “A Kyuutama chose you. A Kyuutama chose all of us. We’re supposed to be fighting together. Let us help you.”

“Naaga.” His voice sounded shaky to his own ears. He knew, knew, that was true. He knew he needed to trust the others, let them help, hell, even get to know them, but a part of him wanted so badly to turn tail and run. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.

“Can you let me help you?”

Stinger looked up sharply. “With Scorpio?”

Naaga furrowed an eyebrow. “No. To go to sleep.”

Oh. Although he knew the discussion about letting people help him with Scorpio was far from over, the discussion was at least over for tonight. More amazing still was Naaga actually giving him space to figure this out and not insisting on going with him. “Yes,” he agreed, and then quickly added, “You won’t make a weird suggestion like I poison myself, right?”

Naaga blinked. “Did someone really suggest you sting yourself to go to sleep?”

“Once. Early on. I was up really late. Ran into Hame getting a drink. She asked me if it was possible.”

“Aren’t you immune to your own venom?”

“Yes.”

“What did you tell her?”

“No, and walked away.”

“Okay,” Naaga said, expression not changing much but clearly puzzled as to why someone would ask Stinger something that bordered on ridiculous. “I was not going to suggest anything like that, but I do have a couple things in mind.” He pushed the covers further out of their way.

Stinger was a little surprised when Naaga pushed him gently down into the mattress, swinging one leg over his hips to effectively straddle him. Naaga rarely took the lead when they had sex, so Stinger just allowed himself to be arranged where Naaga wanted him. Not that Naaga was really all that shy anymore about asking for what he wanted in bed, or making clear what kind of sex he wanted. (And, honestly, Stinger could tell based on how much food Naaga ate at dinner.) Stinger was definitely more dominant and, quite frankly, he was continually turned on by how much Naaga trusted him to be so.

So he settled back into the mattress, Naaga straddling him. They were dressed for bed, meaning Stinger was wearing his loose black pants and nothing else. Naaga was wearing a gray t-shirt and the blue cotton pajama pants. 

Naaga leaned down and pressed his lips to his own, sweet, but close-mouthed and ultimately chaste. Stinger threaded a hand through his hair, dragging him closer and running his tongue against his closed lips. Naaga opened immediately, and the kiss turned filthy, battling tongues and clashing teeth. He got his other hand under Naaga’s shirt, running his palm against the warm, soft skin, finally on the small of his back to pull Naaga even closer. A warm flush ran through him as they broke apart to breath and then went straight back to the fiery kiss. He loved bringing Naaga over the edge, but had never considered how good Naaga’s weight pressing him into the bed would feel. He groaned into the kiss, echoing Naaga’s pleased noise, already making a note to get Naaga to ride him next time. 

All the heat was quickly going south, and he could feel himself getting semi-hard. He moved his hips up, grinding against Naaga, feeling the answering interest. Naaga then moved away from his lips, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck to his shoulder and then his collarbone. Stinger’s head hit the pillow as an involuntary moan rose from his throat. Naaga gently sucked on the skin just below his collarbone, tongue reaching out to sooth the bruised skin. 

“Naaga,” he said softly, name breathy on his lips. Naaga continued pressing kisses down his chest, stopping to suck on one of his nipples, teeth gently scraping. He could feel himself flush and get completely hard. A thin sheen of sweat broke out over his skin. One hand was in Naaga’s hair and the other was on his shoulder. Those kisses were being pressed to his stomach now, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. He squirmed under Naaga’s tongue, hips seeking some friction. 

Stinger’s eye flew wide open as his brain caught up to what Naaga was doing here. Not that they hadn’t done this before, they had. He was much more likely to do this to Naaga than Naaga was to him. Of all the kinds of sex they could have, Naaga was okay with this and enjoyed it, but he much preferred other things where they would get off together. 

“Naaga?” he asked, hoping his voice sounded like a question and not a moan.

Naaga looked up from where he had reached the waistband of his pants. He leaned up a little, deliberately untying the drawstring of Stinger’s pants. There was no mistaking how ready he was. “Let me,” he just said softly. His fingers gently grasped the waistband of his pants, pulling them down just enough to free his erection, which curled towards his stomach. Naaga sat up a little, hair falling into his eyes. He reached out, grasping him and stroking downwards, all firm pressure, just the way he liked. Stinger’s head hit the pillow again, back arching, hands searching for purchase, just wanting to touch Naaga. 

He watched from under hooded eyes as Naaga adjusted himself down his legs a little, still grasping him. His thumb stroked across the tip, spreading around the pre-come that had gathered there. Stinger groaned, deep in the back of his throat. In spite of Naaga not doing this often, he knew exactly what Stinger liked, what would turn him into putty in his hands. 

He bit his lip to keep from shouting when Naaga’s tongue reached out, running across the tip. He followed that up, by taking as much of him into his mouth as he could, tongue running along the underside and teeth ever-so-gently scraping. Naaga’s mouth was hot and wet, and his fist kept working the part of him that wasn’t in his mouth. A bead of sweat ran down his temple. Gods above, he was not going to last long and, why, why did being with Naaga make him feel like a teenager, ready to come after barely any stimulation at all? Because Naaga was so earnest and careful and cared a lot about what he wanted? Because he was fucking in love with Naaga? 

Naaga pulled off with a damned obscene pop, hand continuing to work him.

“Naaga…” His voice sounded broken and needy to his own ears. One hand continued to be threaded through Naaga’s hair and the other settled for clutching the sheets at his side. Naaga’s mouth descended on him once more, tongue swirling as he moved up and down, goddamn _sucking_. That mouth was perfect. Dammit. His back arched, hips moving of their own accord when Naaga sucked again, tongue lapping around the tip before swallowing him back down again. He could feel the pressure building in his stomach, balls drawing tight. 

“Naaga, I’m—“

That was as far as he got. He was expecting Naaga to pull off, but continue to stroke him so that he would come in his hand. He did not expect Naaga to just swallow him down once more, hand gently rubbing his hip as he came, Naaga swallowing as best he could.

His head was tilted back against the pillow, knowing he had been moaning as he came. He loosened his fingers in Naaga’s hair, boneless and relaxed against the bed. Naaga pressed a kiss against his hip, moving up his body and settling by his side. He hissed a little as Naaga tucked him back into his pants and fixed the pants so they were sitting correctly once more. He pressed a kiss to Stinger’s shoulder. Stinger turned slightly to face, fingers turning his chin to meet him, and gave him a dirty kiss, tongue ravishing his mouth, tasting himself and still everything he loved about Naaga. Naaga mewled into the kiss, arm around his waist. Naaga was semi-hard against his hip, not fully there. (He’d clearly been concentrating too hard on other things.) But Stinger could get him there.

They were quiet for a long moment, the only sound their uneven breathing.

Then Naaga sat up, easily swinging himself off the bed.

Stinger blinked, missing his warmth.

Naaga plucked his gray hoodie from where some of their outerwear clothes were on Stinger’s desk chair. He tossed the hoodie to Stinger, who caught the garment easily, frowning. He then opened a drawer in the chest, locating clean pajamas for both of them. 

“Come on,” Naaga said, offering him a hand to help him out of bed. “We’re going to take a bath.”

“We’re what?” Stinger asked, not sure he’d heard correctly.

“Taking a bath,” Naaga repeated. “It’s after midnight. No one will be there. And there are only two tubs in separate rooms with locking doors.” He paused. “They’re big enough so we can bathe together.”

“Um—“

“Towels and everything are down there.” He looked at Stinger. “What’s wrong?” 

He thought back to their weekend in the woods, with the pool and the waterfall, remembering how much he liked being in that water with Naaga. The tub should be warm and soothing and, maybe there was a chance he’d be able to get Naaga off. “Nothing,” he replied, finally accepting Naaga’s hand to get out of bed. He quickly pulled on and partially zipped up Naaga’s hoodie, appreciating that Naaga knew, even though no one else should be up, he didn’t want to walk around outside their rooms half-naked. 

The halls were dim, lit only by emergency lighting, as they padded silently on the short walk to the communal bathroom. The halls and the bathroom were both deserted, eerily silent at this hour of the night. They went into the large room, also only lit by emergency lights. Naaga had clearly been here before, because he knew exactly where to get towels and something to put in the bath water. In his entire time on this ship, Stinger had never actually entered this room. He just followed Naaga, still feeling the afterglow from everything back in his room, taking their clean clothes and the towels and, honestly anything else Naaga felt like handing to him. 

Naaga led him into one of the rooms further inside. He turned on the overhead light there only, and even then, the lights were still low and relatively soothing. He stepped inside, and Naaga shut and locked the door. Naaga had not been wrong—the tub was definitely big enough for both of them. There was a bench against the wall, which Stinger supposed was for clothes, and then a small stool near the tub to hold towels (or anything else someone would need. He wasn’t sure what that would be.) He put down their clothes on the bench, and then extracted the towels to put them on the stool. Naaga started to run the water in the tub, adding something to the water. 

Now they were just waiting for the tub to fill up to a good level. 

Once Naaga was satisfied with the temperature of the water and stepped back, Stinger got into his space, one arm around his waist, kissing him soundly. Naaga responded, deepening the kiss, hands on Stinger’s chest, finally getting coordinated enough to unzip the hoodie. Stinger released him enough to shrug off the garment and toss it in the general direction of their other clothes. His hands went to the hem of Naaga’s shirt, pulling that up and over his head. The garment joined the rest. 

“Stinger,” Naaga said softly, hands reaching for his waist. “We’re supposed to be winding down.”

Stinger huffed a small laugh, arms around Naaga’s waist, hauling him close to their chests were touching. He raised one hand to Naaga’s cheek, angling him for another deep kiss. It was only when they were standing like this did Stinger remember that Naaga was actually slightly taller than him. “What do you call what happened back in my room then?” he asked against Naaga’s lips. 

Naaga didn’t reply, just started another kiss. Stinger responded, kissing him thoroughly. 

The water had gotten to a good level at that point, so Naaga pulled away, looking a little reluctant and turned off the water. 

“Get in,” Naaga said, voice a little wrecked. “Before you get any ideas.”

Stinger felt himself smile fully. He undid the drawstring to his pants and pulled them off deliberately, tossing them towards the other clothes, letting Naaga get the full view. He kissed Naaga quickly as he stepped around him and into the water. He sank down into the water, back against one edge. “I already have ideas,” he replied.

He looked at Naaga pointedly. Naaga’s eyes widened as he realized that Stinger was fully intending to watch him finish undressing. His cheeks got pink and he looked away, taking a deep breath. Stinger sank down in the water a little further, relishing the warm water against his skin. Whatever Naaga put in the water smelled and felt fantastic. Naaga quickly undid the drawstring of his pajama pants and pushed them off, mirroring Stinger in tossing them near the other clothes. Yeah, Naaga was still definitely hot and bothered, and he had a fantastic ass, so Stinger wasn’t complaining. Naaga stepped into the tub, settling across from him, their legs touching. 

They spent a few minutes just soaking in the water. At some point both of them ducked under the water, getting their hair wet. Naaga’s head was resting on the edge of the tub, and his body was a little tense, which was the opposite of this entire exercise. Stinger grabbed a washcloth from the pile that held their towels. “Come here,” he said softly, motioning for Naaga to move closer to him. Naaga went easily and allowed Stinger to arrange him how he wanted. 

He got Naaga situated between his legs, leaning forward slightly, giving Stinger access to his back. Naaga’s chin was resting on his knee, turned slightly to look at Stinger. He got the washcloth wet and ran the cloth up and down Naaga’s back a few times. Naaga’s eyes fluttered closed and his limbs dropped into the water. Okay, Naaga definitely liked this. Stinger set aside the washcloth in favor just running his hands along Naaga’s skin. He started at Naaga’s shoulders, fingers working out the knots and tense muscles he found. Naaga made a slightly pained noise when he got to his left shoulder.

“You okay?” Stinger asked, backing off on the pressure.

Naaga nodded. “Keep going. It actually feels better.”

“What happened?”

“The Mizugami Kyuutama has more kickback that I expected.”

Having used that particular Kyuutama before, Stinger knew that to be true. He increased the pressure against Naaga’s shoulder, watching the tension drain out of Naaga and a pleased noise rise from his throat. As he worked down Naaga’s back, he could feel him relax further. At his lower back, Stinger stopped, gently coaxing him to lean back against him, head against his shoulder.

Stinger got an arm around his waist, hand running down his stomach. Naaga didn’t even tense at the initial touch. Stinger was going to have to give him a back massage more often if that would get him to completely and utterly relax. He reached down slightly further, grasping Naaga’s length. Yeah, he was hard. Stinger stroked down a couple of times, bringing him to full hardness. Naaga gasped, pressing back against him, head turning, breath hot against his collarbone. 

“Stinger,” Naaga breathed, one of his arms scrambling back.

“Shh,” Stinger replied. “I already came. This is about you.”

Naaga’s hand settled on his knee, fingers griping. 

Stinger increased the pressure, stopping at the tip to run his thumb over it. Naaga made a needy noise, fingers digging into his skin. Naaga had clearly been on the edge since the bedroom, so he was more than ready to finish now. Stinger stroked him a handful of times more, and then Naaga tensed, Stinger’s name on his lips as he came. 

He slumped against Stinger, completely boneless. Stinger kept one arm around his waist, holding him close, and pressed kisses against his shoulder, neck and temple. Everything was quiet, the water lapping gently around them, steam rising from the surface. Stinger closed his eyes, letting the edge of the tub take his body weight. 

After a few minutes, Naaga stirred. He turned enough to meet Stinger in a lazy kiss. Stinger opened his eyes, kissing back, free hand going to tangle in Naaga’s hair. 

“We have one more thing to do,” Naaga whispered against his lips. 

Stinger was not about to admit that he was ready to go collapse into bed right now, so he just said, “Okay.”

Naaga stood up, getting out to the tub. He grabbed a towel and dried off quickly. Stinger accepted his hand to stand and do the same. Toweling off woke him up a little bit. They drained the tub and got dressed slowly in the clean clothes, stealing some kisses in between. 

The towels and washcloths went in a laundry bin in the bathroom. Stinger was holding the bundle of their laundry, wearing Naaga’s hoodie once again. They were silent again as Stinger followed Naaga down the hall to the galley. He slumped into a chair, honestly too lethargic at this point to question much of anything that Naaga did.

Which was how he belatedly realized that Naaga was making tea.

The mugs Naaga used were not that big, but Stinger still pulled a face when Naaga set the tea down in front of him.

“It’s not chamomile,” Naaga clarified. “I got it on Earth. It’s their fruit.”

Stinger frowned, but took a sip of the warm tea anyways. Naaga was on to something—this tea was light and fruity and soothing. And actually tasted good and not like weak water someone had tried to flavor. 

“It’s good?” Naaga asked.

Stinger nodded.

Naaga looked pleased. 

Soon enough, the tea was gone, and they were back in Stinger’s room. He put the laundry with the rest in the room, shed the hoodie and crawled into bed. Naaga followed him. They settled onto their sides, facing each other. Stinger pulled the blankets completely over them, one arm going around Naaga’s waist to pull him close. 

“Naaga?”

“Hmm?”

Naaga looked sleepy and warm, eyelids dropping. Stinger pressed a kiss to his forehead, stifling a yawn. “Thank you,” he whispered.

\--------------------

Stinger groaned as the alarm went off the next morning. Dammit, he felt like he’d just gone to sleep. He was supposed to be getting an early start back on the surface with Champ. The android didn’t actually need to sleep, but had agreed to coming back to the ship overnight, seemingly agreeing that would be most sensible. (Who knows, maybe his programming had him being considerate of the organic beings that needed to do such pedestrian things as sleep?) 

Naaga made an unhappy noise and hit the snooze on the alarm. He snuggled closer to Stinger.

“Can you tell Champ you need two more hours of sleep?”

Stinger closed his eyes again, adjusting his grip on Naaga. “No,” he said, voice groggy. “Because that risks him breaking down the door to come in here and haul me down to the surface.”

“He can’t override the door. I programmed it.”

“Not reprogram it. Break it down.”

“Oh.” Naaga pressed even closer. “That would be rude.”

They fell into silence, Stinger huffing a small laugh at Naaga accusing someone of being rude. He swore he was dozing again when he heard, not the alarm coming back from snooze, but the chime that meant he had a message.

He groaned, reaching over Naaga and flicking his wrist to bring up the holographic display on his Seiza Blaster. He blinked as the harsh blue light filled the room, squinting to read the message. Speaking of Champ. Huh.

“When’s your shift this morning?” Stinger asked Naaga, not really expecting an answer.

“Eight, I think,” was the mumbled reply.

Good. Stinger shut off the alarm and reset for two hours later.

He settled back into the bed, redrawing the covers over them. He wrapped an arm securely around Naaga’s waist once more, pulling him as close as possible. Naaga sighed happily, breath hot against his collarbone. Their legs tangled fully in the bed. 

“Champ’s replacing a power cell in his body,” Stinger murmured, inhaling sleepily. “Take a while to install and run diagnostics. We have more time.”

“Good,” Naaga replied. “Now shut-up.”

Stinger was more than happy to comply with that request. He closed his eyes, sinking down into the pillow once more. He and Naaga would be apart a lot in the coming days, and he hated to think about not having the routine they’d fallen into. But they could send messages and talk. He needed someone to constantly reassure him that things with Scorpio would work out, among other things. He’d need to pack some of the tea Naaga had gotten before he went back to the surface. 

“I love you,” he said softly and sleepily to Naaga.

“I love you too,” was the breathy response. 

At least on the surface, when he looked up, he’d know ORION-gou was up there. His hope was up there in the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say, I love when canon confirms some headcanon or another myself (and others) had going on! Stinger was the first Kyuuranger! Woo! I really liked how Space 13 gave us more of a timeline. Granted, it conflicts a little with some of my previous exposition, so I may fudge the timeline a little in future chapters. (But pretty much stick to canon.) :D
> 
> As always, thank you all for commenting, kudos-ing, and reading! I am thrilled this piece has an audience, and all the comments have been awesome. <3 You all are the best! Keep letting me know you're out there, and stay tuned! Next week looks like some typical Sentai silliness so it might be two weeks until the next update. But, seriously, you all are the best! Thanks for reading and stay tuned!
> 
> PS Now that I know my other Kyuuranger piece, Circle the Drain, really is just speculation, I can't help but cling to the idea that, deep deep down, Scorpio does want to be saved. He'll stop being a monster and turn back into Yuki Kubota, right?


	8. the Stongest Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All of this over a dream. He had really just woken Naaga up over a nightmare.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set between Space 14 and 15 (think after Space 14 had wrapped up, but they are getting ready to get into the events of Space 15.) Mild spoilers for Space 14 and even milder spoilers for Space 15. And for the record, I keep envisioning Balance's internal monologue to be a strange mixture of Beast and Deadpool. Oh well. Enjoy!

**8/ the Strongest Stars**   
_The strongest stars have hearts of khyber._

_Scorpio walked across the room, boots clicking against the concrete floor. Stinger’s heart pounded in his chest as his eyes frantically tracked his older brother’s movements. He couldn’t move, either from venom or restraints. He didn’t know, but the closer his brother came, the shallower his breathing became._

_“Stinger,” his brother said, tail reaching out, the stinger tracing a line from his temple to his chin, not breaking skin, not injecting venom, just too close. “You’ve gotten so much stronger.”_

_“Aniki…” his chest was tight, forcing words hard to do._

_“But you are so foolish.”_

_Scorpio backed away a half step, cruel smile quirking his face. Stinger kept his eyes on him, waiting for the venom or a blow, anything other than this._

_“You became a Kyuuranger.” Scorpio tilted his head, intently studying Stinger’s face. “How did a brother of mine become a Kyuuranger?”_

_Stinger wanted to say he didn’t know, but he desperately fought against the people that took his brother from him. How could he stand by while Jark Matter twisted someone so brave and caring into a wicked empty shell? How could he let his only living family, the man he had looked up to and idolized his entire childhood, simply walk away and join the enemy? The Kyuutamas chose people who had lost something to Jark Matter, but also people who fiercely believed in… something. Each other? Family? Community? Hope? Some thin thread that Jark Matter was trying to obliterate._

_“You could have joined me and had everything,” Scorpio said softly, eyes almost disappointed._

_Stinger shook his head._

_Scorpio backed off a little further. “So stubborn. Always so stubborn.” He shook his head. “Tell me, how is life with all those other Kyuurangers? One big happy family?” He smirked. “Anyone special? The green girl is a little short, but still cute.”_

_Stinger just stared, jaw clenching._

_“Or is it one of the boys? You always did go for both, didn’t you?”_

_Stinger tried to hide the flinch, but Scorpio saw._

_“It is, isn’t it?” Scorpio laughed, low and deep, unsettling. “Now which one? You always had particular tastes.” He paused, considering what he knew of all the Kyuurangers. “I think I can rule out the androids and the kid, although I know the kid looks up to you. Lonpou is too silly for you, and I can’t see you going for the wolf. That leaves the chef, the loud one that tried to take on Ikaagen by himself, and the quiet one with white hair.” A long pause and then, “The chef’s too upbeat. The loud one would annoy you. That leaves one.”_

_Scorpio closed the distance between them and grabbed a handful of Stinger’s hair, forcing him to look up at him. Stinger cried out in shock and pain._

_“It is, isn’t?” Scorpio’s eyes practically bored into him. “You’re in love with that little weirdo from the Ophiuchus system, aren’t you?” He released his hair, still in his space. “Guess what, Stinger? I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to find your little star. All I have to do is bait them with a governor. And then I will kill him in front of you, slowly, in all the ways you fear, and the last thing he sees will be you.”_

_Stinger was screaming and Scorpio was laughing._

Stinger sat bolt-right up, gasping for breath, cold sweat running down his back. A dream. Just a dream. He scrubbed his hands over his face, running his fingers through his hair. He hadn’t even seen Scorpio face-to-face yet. The longer they stayed on the surface and searched, the more vivid his dreams became. The last night without dreams had been when they stopped back on the ship for more supplies.

Naaga.

He still wore his Seiza Blaster and just brought up the screen to check the time on the ship versus the time he was currently in. Only one hour difference. Still three in the morning.

Their current crash site was an abandoned house in a neighborhood left empty after Jark Matter came through. No one was even squatting in these houses currently, so they built a perimeter with the Tate Kyuutama. Champ was patrolling outside. Stinger had gone into the house and found a corner away from windows, but with clear sight to the exits (and multiple escape routes) to sleep for a few hours. His skin felt sticky and gritty from days without a shower, and his head was pounding from a combination of the tension and not quite enough water. 

Before he could even consciously debate whether or not to call Naaga, he had already sent off a message, asking him if he was awake. Moments later, he was getting a video call coming in from Naaga. He didn’t know if he should be impressed that Naaga woke up that quickly, or worried that Naaga was not asleep. 

The connection revealed that Naaga had been asleep. He was wearing his pajamas and was clearly in bed (although the current angle made telling whose bed impossible.) Naaga was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand and moving his Seiza Blaster with the other.

“Stinger?” he asked, voice hoarse and low from sleep. “Are you okay?”

All of this over a dream. He had really just woken Naaga up over a nightmare.

“Yeah,” he deflected. “I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Naaga just nodded, sitting up fully. Once Naaga sat up, he could tell that Naaga had been sleeping in his bed. For whatever reason, that small piece of information made him smile. Someone actively missed him, even if everyone else just went about their normal routine and didn’t give a second thought to him. 

“Is it your brother?” Naaga asked.

He let out a long breath, leaning against the wall. “It’s ridiculous.”

Naaga shrugged. “Tell me.”

Stinger took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “I had a dream about Scorpio.” Naaga nodded, remaining quiet, just listening, brow furrowed a little. “He had me trapped, but then figured out about you and me.” He trailed off, not sure how to describe the last part of the dream.

“And?” Naaga prompted softly. 

Stinger exhaled. “He told me he’d kill you and make me watch. I would be the last thing you’d see.” He scrubbed his free hand over his cheek.

“It was just a dream.” Naaga’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I know.”

“Have you found him yet?”

Stinger shook his head, knowing Naaga was coming to a point with the information. “Just a few leads. He moves around a lot. We’ll find him when he wants to be found.”

“Stinger, your brother can’t know about us. The others don’t even know. How could he have found out something the rest of the Kyuurangers haven’t found out?”

“I know,” he repeated. “It’s just…” He took another deep breath, trying not to let his emotions spin out of control. “I miss you, and I’m scared.”

“Scared?” Naaga looked a little concerned at the word.

“Of everything going wrong. If not with Scorpio, then some other retainer on the way up to Don Armage.” He paused. “You are the first good thing I have had in my life in a long time, and I’m terrified this fight will take everything away.”

“You always tell me the Kyuutamas chose us for a reason. The Kyuutamas did not choose weak people. We’re all strong. We will get through this. All of it.”

“How can you believe that so strongly?”

“I have to, because I can’t imagine a world without you, without us.”

“Naaga…” He didn’t know what to say. Naaga was so steadfast and unwavering in his belief that they would succeed, and Stinger spent all his time riddled with doubts. But Naaga was right. The others didn’t know about them, so it was highly unlikely his brother had picked up that particular piece of information. And the Kyuutamas did choose all of them for a reason. He’d held on for so long with nothing but a thin sliver of hope buoying him through the darkness. Now he had a home and Naaga and a mission, and he had to remember all the reasons he was holding on instead of giving up. 

“You should come back to the ship soon,” Naaga said, changing the subject to something lighter, more mundane. “You look like you could use a shower, if nothing else.”

Stinger smiled a little. “Yeah. That’s not exactly an amenity in places Jark Matter razed.” He paused, and then added, “We’ll need to get more supplies in a few days.”

Naaga nodded, small smile on his face.

“What’s going on with you guys?”

“We blew up the Space Dragon Palace.”

“You blew it up?”

“Yeah. A governor tried to use it as a shield. Hame evacuated the civilians, so it was okay.” Naaga paused. “I never heard of the place.”

Stinger replied, “I went there once or twice when I was undercover. They get their clients anything and I do mean anything, as long as you can pay.” He shook his head. “The place was actually disgusting.”

Naaga looked thoughtful. “We went undercover as staff. I think the governor we were tracking was not into anything too weird.”

“Still, good riddance.”

“Balance stole a box that is supposed to age people.”

“Don’t his people live for millennia?”

“Yes. It didn’t do anything to him.”

Stinger laughed a little, and then decided to ask Naaga, “Are you sleeping in my bed?”

Naaga narrowed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is it because it smells like me?”

Naaga frowned even harder if that was possible, meaning the answer to that was yes. “You don’t look like you smell very good right now,” Naaga shot back.

Damn. Naaga was getting good at this. Stinger smiled.

“A few days, huh?” he said. 

Naaga nodded, a small smile quirking his lips. “Four days.” He paused and added, “Preferably three.”

“Three days then.”

They said their goodbyes and disconnected the call. Stinger leaned back against the wall, eyes going to the starlit sky outside. He could make it three days.

\--------------------

“How long?”

Stinger glanced over his shoulder sharply at Champ. He then went back to the long-range binoculars and the Jark Matter activity in the distant office building. He was sitting on the roof of a building, binoculars propped on the ledge. Champ was nearby on the same side, but being an android, he could focus on the buildings with just his built-in optics. 

“How long what?” Stinger asked, tracking a Jark Matter officer that ranked somewhere between a governor and a retainer. 

“You and Naaga…” The damned android actually trailed off.

Stinger felt his heart rate accelerate, although he kept his attention on the activity in the building and did not relay any outward signs that someone questioning him about Naaga was raising his anxiety level. There was no way Champ could have figured out that he and Naaga were together. He only talked to Naaga when Champ was well out of range—enhanced optics were certainly on Champ’s specs, but anything other than normal audio was not. Stinger knew—he’d seen the specs for both Champ and Raptor, and had actually spent a brief time training to be an android mechanic before the military. Not that he was currently in any way qualified to perform diagnostics or repair any android. 

“Me and Naaga, what?” he shot back, irritated. 

“Oh, come on, pal,” Champ replied. “How long have you two been together?”

Stinger turned his head slowly to give Champ a sidelong look, schooling his face into complete annoyance. Acting annoyed was a great ploy as a spy to cover up truths or lies, and, as it turns out, worked pretty well with the other good guys. “What are you talking about?” he snapped.

“You’re discreet about it, but you really think I wouldn’t pick up on who you’re calling every night?” Champ shrugged. “You organic beings don’t call anyone every night unless they mean something to you.”

Stinger turned back to the building, not confirming or denying anything. Actually, no way in hell was he confirming or denying. Champ could just wonder in a gray area for all he cared. The android got on his last nerve, always going on and on about justice and Doctor Anton and revenge for Doctor Anton’s death. How the actual fuck could an android with such a single-track mind pick up on his personal relationships?

“Don’t want to talk about it?”

_No_ , Stinger wanted to yell, _Because I am half-convinced you want to murder my brother, so why would I want to talk to you about Naaga?_ But he remained silent. He could vehemently deny, but he found silence was better for planting doubts in someone. Maybe even an annoying android. 

“Look,” Champ continued. “I’m not going to tell anyone. It’s not my business what you guys do and I really don’t care.” He paused. “But you guys shouldn’t feel like you need to hide it.”

“I don’t feel like I need to hide it,” Stinger snapped and then immediately regretted letting his nerves and his temper get the better of him. He took a deep breath, a lot of creative swearing coming to mind. “I just don’t want the others… talking,” he finally added. 

Champ snorted. “That’s probably a good idea. They talk a lot.”

“You’re talking a lot right now.”

“Fine, sorry. Won’t bring it up again.”

“Good.” Stinger glanced back over at Champ. The android was impassive, one eye zooming in and out on the activity in the building. 

“Officer’s on the move,” Champ suddenly said. “If we’re quick, we can tail the motorcade.” 

Finally, something to do. Stinger shoved the binoculars into his pack and got both straps of the pack on by the time he hit the fire escapes of the building to climb down. Champ followed him, using some boosters in his feet to kind of float gently to the ground. (He didn’t have enough power in them to actually fly.) As Stinger hit the sidewalk below and ran in the direction of the soon-to-depart car, he hoped that Champ would never talk about him and Naaga again. He had a feeling that android was sincere about not caring and not bringing it up again. A small kindness. 

\--------------------

Late in the evening, Naaga walked into his own room with a small bundle of laundry. He’d made sure that any clothes Stinger left on the ship were washed and put away, which would make him dropping off clothes and picking up clean ones much easier. Some of Stinger’s clothes were still in his room, as some of his things were in Stinger’s, and he just left the items there. He’d mostly been sleeping in Stinger’s room, except for one night where Balance had walked back to the living quarters with him and he wanted to avoid questions about why he might be going into Stinger’s room. 

He let out a long breath. He wished that Stinger was actually on the ship and not down on Earth. He’d reset his alarm sound at night for Stinger’s messages, so they would wake him up quickly in case Stinger needed something. 

While going undercover as staff at the Space Dragon Palace had not bothered him, and they clearly had not seen the depths of the place, he didn’t really understand why Balance thought aging one hundred years was a good thing. Or why the governor they had been tracking had been so oddly specific about women. Or why Garou having such a string of bad luck was really all that important. He’d found himself defaulting to just going along with whatever the mood and the sentiment was in the room, floating along, not really understanding any of the fuss over anything. He hated feeling so lost that he didn’t know what to do, so he just copied everyone else. 

During the meals that Stinger attended, he’d almost become a shield for Naaga, by doing nothing more than glaring when someone asked Naaga something he considered to be stupid. Stinger wasn’t even aware he was doing it, because Naaga had asked him one time and he’d looked truly confused. At the very least, if Stinger were around, he’d have more time to ask him about things he didn’t understand. With Stinger on the surface, he found himself not wanting to drag down their conversations with his questions. Stinger wouldn’t care, but he just… he wasn’t even sure why. He missed Stinger, like a constant ache in his chest that wouldn’t go away.

He sighed again.

He set the clothes down on the bed and bent to pull open the bottom drawer of his chest. He hadn’t actually opened that particular drawer in a while, so he pulled out and straightened the mostly winter clothing there. Something at the back of the drawer caught his eye. He extracted a small box from the very back of the drawer. Not his, likely something of Stinger’s. He examined the box a little further—there was a fingerprint lock on the box. He ran his thumb over the lock, expecting nothing to happen because the box was Stinger’s and not his. 

Which is why he was so surprised the lock opened.

The box contained a letter (written on paper) and two new silver rings. Naaga sat down on the floor completely, feeling his breath shorten and heart rate go up. He could not even fathom what this was and why Stinger would have it hidden in his room. His hands were shaking as he unfolded the paper.

The letter was addressed to him. Of course. 

He didn’t get through more than his name and the first two lines before his vision blurred from tears. Stinger’s handwriting was neat and precise. 

_Naaga, if you’re reading this…_

No, no, no.

Naaga dropped the letter, the piece of paper floating to the floor, buoyed a little by the climate control system. He did not want to read this letter. He knew that Stinger going after his brother was a risk and one that Stinger wanted to take. His older brother had been everything to him and he said once that he didn’t think Scorpio would join Jark Matter without something serious happening. But still, Champ was with him and even if Scorpio could no longer be saved, Scorpio wouldn’t just kill his brother, right?

A sob bubbled up, followed by another, hot tears streaking down his cheeks. He hated this. He hated the uncertainty. On his home planet, deaths outside of old age represented a fraction of a percent. At least, before Jark Matter. Everything had been carefully constructed to be safe and nurturing, no cause for emotions, no reason for rebelliousness. Everyone had developmental goals, they were inoculated against all diseases, and the food was nutritionally balanced to promote a long life. Children weren’t born so much as they were designed with particular skill set in mind. Sometimes children showed different aptitudes, but everything was still stable and sound.

And he knew, _he knew_ , that everything changed with Jark Matter. Being on the run and then meeting Balance… none of that had demonstrated to him the impermanence of his own life. The Kyuutamas chose them to do something extremely dangerous, something that could easily end in death for all of them. He didn’t want to think about that. So far, the Kyuutamas and the Voyagers had protected them. 

Now, even Stinger, who had survived against all odds, was planting notes just in case he didn’t live through finding his brother. 

_You are the first good thing I have had in my life in a long time, and I’m terrified this fight will take everything away._

How long had they been together? Two months? More like two and a half months. Such a short amount of time seemed like lifetimes had passed. Even three months ago, Naaga could not have imagined having someone in his life who knew him as intimately as Stinger, could not imagine even feeling an emotion as strong as love, and yet, here he was. Stinger sang when he thought no one could hear him. He hated chamomile tea and sweets, but loved coffee and any fresh fruit or vegetable. He constantly downplayed how good a mechanic he was, both on small ships and the Voyagers, and on androids. He really liked to read, but never seemed to have much of an opportunity to do so, meaning he’d been working on the same book for the last month. 

Naaga took a deep breath, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. No, he was not going to read this letter. Stinger never meant for him to find the box right now anyways. He folded the paper back up, noticing a few teardrops had landed on the letter. He put the letter back in the box, and then looked at the rings. On impulse, he took the rings out, running them between his fingers. They looked like they been made from silver scraps, which was definitely something Stinger would know how to do. There were a few things Stinger could be getting at with those, so Naaga just slid them into his pocket. 

He quickly put the box and the clothes back in the drawer, and then the laundry. 

He sat down on his bed briefly, then stood up.

Nope. He was going to sleep in Stinger’s room.

\--------------------

The first thought Balance had when Naaga half-walked half-stumbled into one of the maintenance bays the next morning was, _Stars and garters, Naaga looks like shit._

And that was true. And also very out of character for Naaga. 

He was still dressed neatly, hair combed and whatnot, but his eyes were pink and puffy, face blotchy, and dark circles under his eyes. If Balance was to gather any conclusions (given his extensive knowledge of organic lifeforms and their idiosyncrasies), he would have said that Naaga had been up all night crying. 

But why?

Balance internally frowned. The only thing he’d ever really noticed out of the ordinary with Naaga was his extremely strange friendship with Stinger. Not that Naaga ever brought up Stinger in casual conversation, which, now that Balance thought about it, was a little odd since they were friends. Sure, Naaga asked him to save seats at dinner for him and Stinger, and he had helped Naaga practically shield Stinger from the people that irritated him, but anyone would attest to the fact that keeping Stinger far away from people that annoyed him was a good idea. No one had gotten punched. Yet. Better to remove Stinger from the situation than risk an explosion. And yeah, Balance had done it without asking questions, because, one, Naaga was his best friend and, two, Naaga didn’t ask people for favors. If that was the only favor he was asking, why not?

Okay. Time to see if Naaga would respond to idle conversation this morning. (Sometimes he did, sometimes he didn’t. Really just depended on his mood and interest level, Balance supposed.) That might get something out of Naaga. 

“Rashiban Kyuutama is almost recharged,” Balance commented. “Looks like the other two for Argo are on other planets.”

Balance did not expect Naaga to freeze from where he had been about to sit down at the work table on one of the tall stools. And, seriously, he had not been expecting pay-dirt with the first idle piece of information he had. 

“They are?” Naaga asked, looking a little stricken. (Or as much as Naaga looked like any emotion.)

Balance shrugged. “Looks that way. I’ll double-check when it’s completely recharged.”

Naaga didn’t sit down. He just continued to stand by the table. “What about Stinger and Champ?”

“What about them?”

“We can’t abandon them on Earth!”

Nuts, bolts and fucking drill bits, Naaga was starting to look downright panicked. 

“We’re not abandoning them,” Balance replied. “We can get to all these planets on the Voyagers and even if we did take ORION-gou, I’m sure the Commander would let them know and let them re-stock their supplies before we leave.” He paused. “Besides, Jark Matter has an unusual number of Morimazus here. Just a day trip in the Voyagers.”

“But what if we do take ORION-gou?”

“Naaga,” Balance responded. “We would not abandon them. Scorpio’s fucking dangerous. We would come right back.”

Naaga did not look convinced. “If ORION-gou goes to another planet, we’re out of range of the Seiza Blasters. What if they need us and can’t call us?”

“We’ll give them a long-range sat-phone that will link directly to ORION-gou.” He tilted his head at his best friend. “Hell, Naaga, why are you so worried?”

“They do not have the supplies with them for us to not be orbiting Earth.”

“How do you know what supplies they have?” _We also aren’t leaving Earth’s orbit_ , but Balance chose not to say that part.

“I checked everything out to Champ. The supplies were based on ORION-gou staying near the Earth—near enough for them to come back on the Voyagers in a short time to get more supplies, and also near enough that they can contact us on the Seiza Blasters.”

Naaga half-sat half-fell into a seat. One hand was on the table, fist clenched, not from anger, but from fear and desperation. His other hand was in his pants pocket, clearly worrying something between his fingers. (Nothing naughty, that was for sure.) 

Balance wanted to shake Naaga to get the real reason for his panic out of him, but then—

When Stinger went off somewhere on the ship by himself, he always—always—reappeared with Naaga. Balance stopped by Naaga’s room the other morning, when Naaga should have been there, and the room was empty. Stinger’s weird tendency to sometimes help with meals always seemed to make Naaga extremely happy. Hell, after that one night that Stinger and Champ had come back to resupply a week or so ago, Naaga had been tired but also seemed really relaxed. They also kind of sat closer to each other at meals than normal friends did. And Stinger was quick to get irritated if someone gave Naaga a hard time for not understanding an emotion or tradition that went with the emotion.

_Stars and garters._

Naaga and Stinger were not just friends.

Naaga and Stinger were _together_ or whatever organic lifeforms called something like that. Whatever the case, they were bumping naughty bits. 

How the actual hell could Balance have missed that?

Because, damn, they were impressively discreet about it.

Anyone else onto them had to think they were just close friends.

And now all of Naaga’s panic made sense.

“Okay, okay,” Balance said, redirecting the conversation. “How about this? We can go down there for a few hours this morning. You know, take them the additional supplies they’ll need, additional food and whatnot, maybe even come up with a lockbox for them to use down there to store stuff. I can check with Champ and do any maintenance he needs. You can—“ _Have a quickie with your boyfriend._ “—make sure that Stinger is okay.”

Naaga nodded, looking marginally calmer. 

Balance started a video call to Champ. 

“What?” the mechanical bull asked gruffly.

“Busy?” Balance asked with as much sunny enthusiasm as he could muster (because that annoyed the hell out of Champ.)

“Surveillance,” was the gruff reply.

“Hey, send me your location. There’s a very small—and I do mean infinitesimally small—chance ORION-gou will be at another planet for a few days, and Naaga and I are coming down there with additional supplies for you.”

“Why is this coming from you and not the Commander?”

“I said a very, very tiny chance, didn’t I?” _And Naaga is paranoid about his boyfriend_. “Just shut-up and let us bring a sat-phone and more food for the organic lifeform you’re following around.”

“Fine.” The call was abruptly disconnected, but then Balance’s Seiza Blaster chimed with their location coordinates. 

Balance looked at Naaga for a long moment, then said, “What are you doing still sitting here? Go get all the stuff you think they need!”

Naaga was up like a shot and out the door. “Bring an android maintenance kit, please!” Naaga called over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall.

“On it!” Balance called back. 

Organic lifeforms, geez.

\--------------------

Only half the reason Naaga and Balance were down here had to do with bringing them more supplies. Stinger was focused on Naaga, trying to figure out the other half of the reason. The supplies were definitely needed if ORION-gou ever orbited another planet—nothing superfluous or frivolous. Naaga was impassive, perhaps even more so than usual. Balance was chattering about fixing something in Champ’s elbow. (Apparently a weak joint that happened regularly because, even though he was an android, Champ still lifted weights. Weird programming to show that Champ was strong? Stinger didn’t know.)

“Jark Matter used to have a base in these office buildings,” Stinger supplied. “We were going through the debris to see if we could find anything useful.”

“Great!” Balance said, his usual enthusiasm showing. Balance’s brand of enthusiasm did not irritate him like Lucky’s did, probably because Stinger knew that Balance used enthusiasm to be a complete and utter smartass. “Why don’t you take Naaga with you and go search over there?” Balance vaguely gestured to the office building to the west. “And I’ll fix Champ’s elbow.”

“Sure.” Stinger gave Naaga a pointed look and nodded towards the exit. Naaga followed him and they walked in silence over to the next building in the complex. The door was closed, but unlocked. They easily entered the building, the air stale and humid from weeks of no climate control. Naaga shut the door behind them as Stinger shone a flashlight over the damp piles of paper and stray cords from tech no longer present. Jark Matter left here in a hurry.

“What are we looking for?” Naaga asked.

“Nothing,” Stinger replied, kicking idly at a stack of papers. “All this debris is a misnomer. Jark Matter isn’t this analog.”

“Then why are you and Champ searching here?”

“It’s better than doing nothing while we wait for the trackers we planted on some of the officers’ cars to start moving.” Stinger tested the stability of a nearby desk and, upon deciding the furniture was stable, he leaned against the top, setting his pack on the edge. “What’s going on?” he asked, pinning Naaga with an intense look from across the room. 

Naaga looked away. “Nothing,” he replied after a long moment.

So something had happened that Naaga clearly did not want to tell him. That small fact made Naaga seem so human. He’d come so far in just the short amount of time they had been together. Whatever happened had to do with him, Stinger reflected, otherwise Naaga would not have jumped at the opportunity, however thin, to come down here. 

“Come here,” Stinger said, moving back to fully sit on the desk. Naaga crossed the room to him, close enough that Stinger could pull him into his space, between his legs. He had one hand on Naaga’s wrist, keeping him close, and the other on the back of his neck, angling him down for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He ran his tongue against Naaga’s, humming into the kiss, remembering how sharply he missed simple moments like this. Naaga’s hands were on his thighs, a pleased noise coming out of him. Stinger broke the kiss, keeping Naaga close enough to continue.

“Don’t do this,” he said softly. “Don’t shut me out. What’s wrong? You can tell me.”

Naaga’s eyes flicked away for a moment. He was beginning to look upset. 

Just as Stinger was about to prompt him again, Naaga reached into his pocket, took Stinger’s hand and deposited something into his palm. He looked down and saw the two rings.

Shit. Naaga found the box.

“Did you read the letter?” he asked softly.

Naaga was biting his bottom lip, eyes bright with unshed tears. His body shook a little, like he was trying not to cry. He shook his head after a long moment. “Just the first two lines,” he added, voice quaking. “I couldn’t read the rest.”

A tear rolled down Naaga’s cheek. Stinger put the rings down on the desk and stood up, pulling Naaga into his arms. Naaga went easily, almost a little desperate, face pressed to the juncture of Stinger’s shoulder and neck. His body was shaking with silent sobs and his arms were wrapped around Stinger’s middle. Stinger just got an arm around Naaga’s back, gently rubbing, and the other hand was threaded through his hair. 

Writing that letter at all had been a risk, but he had seen what Scorpio had managed to do with his venom and that alone terrified Stinger. He had no idea what awaited him at the end of this journey, and the thought of him dying without writing down somewhere exactly what Naaga meant to him was somehow worse. They hadn’t been together long, certainly not long enough to warrant rings, but Naaga was the first lover Stinger ever had where he could see a future together, could see growing old together. Naaga valued order and believed in taking care of his possessions. He liked routines, but could always be persuaded to break those routines. He didn’t really like coffee, preferring to drink various teas to either wake up or wind down. He also didn’t really like sweets or confections, preferring simple food. He smiled at the small things that made other people happy. He was teaching himself how to write programs other than security protocols. 

Death was frightening, more so now that he so much more to lose. 

And now Naaga was scared and upset, all because he didn’t think through the hiding spot for his box. He felt like a giant asshole for that. 

After a few moments, Naaga quieted. 

Stinger sat down on top of the desk once more, gently guiding Naaga to sit across from him, the rings between them like some kind of silent reminder. Naaga sniffed, still looking shaky. Stinger reached out and wiped away a few stray tears with the corner of his sleeve. Stinger took his hand, threading their fingers together. Naaga offered a small smile.

“I’m sorry,” Stinger said softly. 

Naaga shook his head. “We’re both scared.” He took a deep breath. “And I overreacted.” 

Stinger squeezed his hand. “I should have just talked to you, and not written letters for you to find.”

Naaga picked up one of the rings, running the metal between his index finger and thumb. “What was in the letter?” he asked softly.

Stinger exhaled. “A lot of things I should just tell you.”

“Like what?” Naaga’s eyes were bright and curious.

All of this seemed too big to put into a letter, in that moment, so many emotions just rattling around, some not even put into words. “That I love you,” he started, voice low and shaking slightly. “More than I have ever loved anyone in my life, more than I ever thought I was capable of.” Naaga put the ring down and reached out so both their hands were clasped. “I can’t imagine my life without you.” Another pause. “I can imagine the rest of our lives together, after all this, some place with trees and water, and lots of space.”

Naaga closed the small space between then, beginning a long, chaste kiss. The kiss conveyed closeness, acknowledgement, an answer that could not be put into words. The kiss was not going to get any deeper—the kiss was Naaga’s answer. Me too.

When they broke apart, Naaga just asked simply, “And the rings?”

Stinger gave him a tight smile. “I think we’re too early for things like that.”

“What does it mean?” Naaga asked again, gently prodding him for answer.

Stinger thought for a moment. “A lot of marriage customs involved exchanging rings.” He tapped Naaga’s ring finger on his left hand. “And some people exchange them earlier to indicate that they are engaged to be married.” He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s a promise for something later.”

“We don’t do that on my planet,” Naaga replied. “But I like the idea of it being a promise.”

“Like I said, I think it’s too early for that.”

“Who made that rule?”

No one. In fact, it wasn’t a rule. Fuck it. He wanted this. “No one,” he said aloud. “We can do whatever we want.”

He picked up one of the rings and slid it onto the ring finger of Naaga’s right hand. Naaga did the same thing, mirroring Stinger’s actions with the other ring. He pulled Naaga close, kissing him soundly. 

“Will the others notice?” Naaga asked, breathless, but also sounding unsure, a touch uneasy.

_Champ might. Everyone else will think it’s just jewelry_. “Unlikely,” Stinger replied. 

He kissed Naaga again, then slid off the desk, offering a hand to Naaga to do the same. He kept holding Naaga’s hand, leading him towards a more secluded corner of the room. The windows were mostly covered and no one was around, but that didn’t mean he wanted Balance or even Champ to walk in on something. And, crap, that was the other thing he needed to tell Naaga. He gently backed Naaga against the wall, kissing him briefly, before saying, “There is one more thing.”

“What?” Naaga asked, sounding distracted, probably because he wanted to be kissing right now and not talking. Stinger suddenly had a fleeting thought that there was a chance they could just have sex, and the android and the mechanical lifeform might not notice. 

“Champ figured out we’re together.”

“What?” Naaga’s voice was a little less fogged and sharper. 

“Said he wouldn’t tell anyone and he didn’t care.”

“Good?” Naaga was searching Stinger’s face, trying to figure out how to react to this piece of information. Gods, they had both gotten really good at being as discreet as possible, coming up with a neutral excuse for something. 

“I believe he’ll keep it to himself,” Stinger finally replied, then he added, “He also said that we shouldn’t feel like we need to hide it.”

“I don’t feel like we need to hide anything,” Naaga responded. “I just don’t like the idea of the others talking about us.”

That was pretty much verbatim what Stinger told Champ, and he said as much to Naaga.

Naaga wrinkled his nose a little. “When we went undercover at the Space Dragon Palace, Garou ended up using the Virgo Kyuutama to distract the governor.”

Stinger blinked. “Doesn’t that Kyuutama disguise whoever’s using it as a woman?”

Naaga nodded. “They’re still making fun of Garou for it.” He let out a long breath. “If they’re still making fun of Garou for something during a mission, I don’t want to think about how much they would speculate and give us a hard time for _this_.” Naaga paused. “I don’t want to worry about that. I just want to be with you.”

Stinger threaded one hand through Naaga’s hair and pulled him in for a wet, messy kiss, tongue ravishing his mouth. How the hell could the pair of them consistently be on the same page with this? He wanted Naaga, and, at that moment, really didn’t care if the other two noticed they’d had sex. He was willing, and Naaga was definitely into this make-out session. Naaga moaned into the kiss, hands on Stinger’s waist, fingers biting into his skin. He could not get enough of that mouth. Naaga’s breathing was uneven and harsh when they broke apart. Stinger rested his forehead against Naaga’s. 

“When we’re back on the ship to resupply, the things I am going to do to you,” he practically growled against Naaga’s lips. 

Naaga’s gasp was shaky. “Like what?” he whispered. He moaned when Stinger reached between their bodies and palmed the front of his pants. Naaga had been semi-hard when Stinger first touched him, but one squeeze and he could feel him harden completely under his hand.

“Spread you out on the bed,” Stinger continued. He unbuckled Naaga’s belt and then unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. He ran his hand inside his pants and shorts, grasping his length, stroking downward. Naaga gasped again. “Fuck you into the mattress,” he murmured, continuing to stroke Naaga. “Make you come, screaming my name.” Naaga moaned at that.

He felt Naaga’s hands on his own belt, fingers shaking too much to make any progress. Keeping one hand on Naaga, continuing to slowly stroke, he gently brushed Naaga’s hands away, glad when his hands went to simply fist his jacket. He unbuckled his belt, and then undid his pants, knowing what Naaga wanted at this point. He was hard, had been so since Naaga got there. 

Stinger was a little impressed with himself that he managed to get them where they both wanted one-handed. He got both their cocks out so he could stroke them together, one of Naaga’s hands releasing his jacket to join him, and put a little more pressure. Naaga’s mouth was open, breath hot against his neck as he gasped. “Stinger,” he mumbled, clearly not coordinated enough to articulate anything else. And, hell, they talked about the kind of sex they wanted, but Stinger realized they’d never crossed the line over into dirty talk. Which Naaga seemed to like. Huh.

Naaga’s breath was coming faster. Stinger increased the speed and pressure, and a few strokes later, Naaga came into his hand. Stinger followed one stroke later. 

They slumped against the wall, boneless and gasping for breath. 

After a few moments of just breathing, Stinger roused himself and stood up completely. Naaga straightened a little. They were not that far from the desk with his pack, so Stinger grabbed the bag, going back to Naaga. Naaga got them both tucked back into their pants, clothes refastened and being worn correctly once again. Stinger got a bandana and his water bottle from his pack. He got the cloth wet and used it to clean his hand. They were both sweaty and disheveled. The buildings were humid anyways, so Stinger was planning on blaming their appearance on that. 

Stinger got back into Naaga’s space, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him close for a moment. Naaga was breathing deeply, arms around him. 

“Call us if anything happens,” Naaga whispered.

“I will,” Stinger replied.

“Just…” Naaga pulled back a little, eyes searching Stinger’s face. “Please be careful.”

Stinger nodded.

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Stinger gently brushed his hair away from his forehead. “If Lucky tries to give you a hard time for not knowing something, just ignore him and go hang out with Spada.”

That got a small smile out of Naaga.

They would be okay. They had to be. 

Because for the first time in his life, Stinger could see a future.

\-------------------

“Should we send them a message and be obnoxious?” Balance asked.

Champ huffed. “Leave them be. You know how organic lifeforms are.”

Balance just made a rude noise. He and Champ had compared notes. And now that Champ had threatened Balance under pain of disassembly, Balance was apparently shutting up about Naaga and Stinger. Which he probably would have done anyways, because Naaga was his best friend. Most likely.

“Seriously. How long do they think fixing an elbow piston takes?”

Champ shrugged. “They won’t see each other for a while.”

“Ugh. I’m bored,” Balance complained. “Why are organic lifeforms so ridiculously sentimental?”

That statement got ignored.

Time to try something else. 

“Think any of the others know?”

Champ huffed again. “Spada might suspect or just think they’re close friends. Either way, he’d keep it to himself until they want to share.” A pause. “Everyone else, no.” Then a glare thrown Balance’s direction. “And it’s staying that way.”

“You already described for me in graphic detail exactly how you are disassembling me if I spill the beans. Trust me, I will not even think about it. I will think about rainbows and unicorns and kittens.”

Balance paused a few moments.

“What are they even doing?” he whined. Then, “Never mind. I know what organic lifeforms get up to in their spare time.” Followed by, “Ugh! Why did I even think of that?”

“Think about treasure.”

“Good call.”

_Naaga, the crap I put up with for the sake of you and your dumb boyfriend._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Someone go get Naaga before he decides to live on Vela forever." - Balance, probably
> 
> Wow everyone! I am constantly blown away by my super awesome readers! Thank you so much for all the comments, kudos and hits! Drop a comment every once in a while and let me know you're out there! (I have tons of ideas for future chapters, but if there's something you all would like to see, let me know! I am open to suggestions!)
> 
> And, OMG, the preview for next week! Who am I kidding? The end of Space 15?! (Have I mentioned lately that Yuki Kubota and Yosuke Kishi will be the death of me?) Depending how Space 16 ends, I am hoping for another update next week. And even if it ends on another cliffhangers, that likely won't stop me! Thanks everyone!


	9. A Fool's Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naaga blinked awake in the middle of the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, dear readers. Massive spoilers for Space 16, so maybe turn back until you get a chance to watch from your source of choice? This is set directly after Space 16. Enjoy!
> 
> PS There are some quotes from the show with a few liberties.

**9/ A Fool’s Hope**   
_There never was much hope. Only a fool’s hope._

Naaga blinked awake in the middle of the night. They were in his room, since Stinger never wanted to be in his own room anymore, to the point that Naaga went to get anything from his room he needed. The bed was pushed against a wall, and Naaga had the wall side of the bed. He’d been laying on his back, he realized after adjusting for a few moments, because Stinger was currently wrapped around him. Stinger’s head was more or less on his shoulder, breath hot against his neck. One of Stinger’s arms was over his chest and one of his legs was between his own. His tail was wrapped around Naaga’s thigh—not simply slung over his thigh, _wrapped around_. The arm that Stinger was laying on was dead asleep—Naaga could not even really wiggle his fingers. 

He needed to use the bathroom, but didn’t dare move because Stinger was actually asleep, dead weight against him, breathing evenly. He also would not be able to move until Stinger woke up and unwrapped his tail. He glanced at the clock above the door—four-thirty in the morning. Hopefully Stinger would wake up soon enough. 

Stinger hadn’t been eating or sleeping for the past two days. One more day and he was off to Rebellion HQ with Champ to see if Champ could, indeed, be repaired. He had not attended a single meal nor had he gone to the galley to get the food Spada set aside for him. (Naaga knew because he had checked with Spada.) According to Spada, no one had replenished the energy bars down in the Voyager Bay and there had only been two down there last Naaga knew. At night, he would take a shower and go to bed, but he didn’t sleep. He would allow himself to doze for a while, really just clinging to Naaga like he was his only lifeline. Hence why Stinger was wrapped so thoroughly around him right now. 

The first night after everything had happened, Naaga found Stinger curled in a fetal position on the floor of his room, sobbing and clinging to Champ’s Kyuutama. 

_“It was supposed to be me! It was supposed to be me…”_

_Naaga felt his own eyes burn with unshed tears as he dropped to the floor, running a hand through Stinger’s hair. Stinger looked up at him, still crying, clutching the Kyuutama so hard the base cut into the palm of his hand. “Champ was protecting you,” he finally said softly._

_“Why? I don’t deserve it! One stupid sliver of hope that my brother didn’t betray me and I told him everything about the Argo.”_

_“Champ protects people, no matter what.” Naaga pulled Stinger into his lap, one hand going to stroke through his hair. The other hand he threaded through Stinger’s. Stinger’s face was pressed to his thigh, skin hot, tears soaking through the fabric._

_“I can’t do this,” Stinger said, voice broken and desperate. “I’m going to get us all killed.”_

_“You won’t.”_

_“Aniki knows all he has to do is act like he wants to be saved and I’ll tell him anything.” A pause and then, “Why is no one angrier with me?”_

_“Because it’s not your fault. Scorpio manipulated you. Everyone here knows how they get around people they thought they lost.”_

_“I can’t take their kindness, their sympathy. I’m no better than the monsters we fight.”_

_“Stinger—“_

_“I can’t do this, Naaga. It was supposed to be me!”_

_“What about me?”_

_“What?” Stinger sat up a little, looking at Naaga. Tears were still running down his cheeks, but the sobs had quieted. Naaga felt a tear roll down his own cheek. He reached out, gently tracing Stinger’s cheekbone with his thumb._

_“What would I have done if you died today?”_

_“I—“_

_“You weren’t thinking about that in the moment.” Naaga shrugged, another tear falling. “Everything is overwhelming and confusing. I understand. I forgive you.” He paused. “Champ knew about us. He also knew you weren’t thinking straight.”_

_Stinger raked a hand through his hair, another sob bubbling up._

_“You should be—“_

_“Don’t tell me how I should feel,” Naaga cut him off. “Am I angry at you for letting your brother pull you down so much you thought it would be best for him to kill you? Yes! I’m extremely angry about that, because I feel like I’m losing you.”_

_“Naaga…”_

_“I am not letting go of this, of us, without a fight.” He paused, reaching out to touch Stinger’s face. “Everything you said about a future, you have to remember that, you can’t let that go.” His thumb wiped a few stray tears away. “Because that’s the hope that’s getting us through this alive.”_

_Stinger surged forward, wrapping his arms around Naaga in a bone-crushing hug, practically squeezing the breath out of him, sobbing once again. He returned the embrace, trying to gently rock Stinger as he cried himself. Stinger was mumbling, “I’m sorry,” over and over again. Naaga knew how complicated anything with Stinger’s brother was and he was disappointed, sure, but also knew they could get past this, past anything. Stinger needed time and space and to forgive himself._

_“You’re not alone,” Naaga whispered. “You have me… and Champ.”_

_After a while, Stinger quieted, utterly exhausted._

_Naaga got him to change into pajama pants, and to wash his face and the cut on his hand. Naaga then got a bandage on the cut. Stinger was incredibly cautious when they got into bed, like Naaga might kick him out at any moment. When he didn’t do anything of the sort, Stinger surprised him by completely wrapping himself around him._

“Naaga?”

Stinger had woken up.

“Are you okay? You’re really tense.”

“I’m fine. I just need—“

“Shit, sorry.” Stinger seemed to realize how thoroughly his tail was wrapped around Naaga, and removed that particular limb of his, extracting himself enough that Naaga could climb over him and out of the bed. Which Naaga did, his arm tingling painfully as he went. 

He retreated into the bathroom, took care of business and washed his hands. He leaned over the sink for a moment. The harsh light and small mirror revealed dark circles under his eyes and he looked pale. He quickly splashed some water on his face, using a small hand towel to dry the droplets. Stinger was running himself into the ground, punishing himself, and Naaga was afraid, more than afraid, that he was going to get sick or worse. 

He twisted the silver ring around his finger a few times. 

No one was ever going to convince Stinger to forgive himself for his brother or Champ. 

He let out a long sigh. A little more than twenty-four hours until Stinger left. 

When he came out of the bathroom, Stinger was sitting on the edge of the bed, locating his clothes for the day. Naaga felt a pang of disappointment. He knew how badly everything had hurt Stinger and knew how much Stinger now hated himself for the events, and he really just wanted Stinger to slow down and let himself be taken care of. 

“You’re going already?” Naaga asked softly.

Stinger nodded. “Might as well.”

Naaga took a deep breath, trying to center himself. He needed to state plainly what he wanted. “Can you stay with me for a little bit?” he asked quietly. “Please?” he added.

Stinger’s expression was unreadable as he stared at Naaga for a long moment. Then his eyes softened for a moment. He put the clothes on the floor beside the bed and moved so he was fully in the bed, back against the headboard. Naaga quickly padded across the room, getting into bed and pulling the covers up to their waists. He curled against Stinger’s side, an arm around his waist and one leg between his. Stinger wrapped an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Naaga closed his eyes, relaxing into the warmth of Stinger’s body. 

“I miss you,” Naaga mumbled against his shoulder.

“I’m right here,” Stinger replied, squeezing his shoulder for emphasis. 

“No, I mean…” Naaga opened his eyes, looking up at Stinger. “Before you leave, can you… I mean, can we…”

Stinger didn’t reply, just pressed a kiss to his forehead. Naaga closed his eyes again, willing himself not to cry out of sheer frustration. He moved as close to Stinger as possible, holding on to him as tightly as he dared. As far as Naaga was concerned, Stinger could wrap his tail around his waist multiple times, if that was what was going to keep him here, keep him close. 

When Naaga woke up again two hours later, he was alone in the room.

\--------------------

Spada watched as Naaga came to breakfast late, and then proceeded to sit at the table well after everyone else had left, still picking at his oatmeal with blueberries. Even Balance had not been able to get any words out of him at all. Naaga was so lost in his own thoughts that he wasn’t even acknowledging that he heard anyone else talk to him. 

And Spada could have kicked himself for not piecing together what was happening sooner. Naaga and Stinger were close friends, which meant that Naaga was likely bearing the brunt of what Stinger was currently going through. And even if Stinger was not relying on Naaga, then Naaga at least had a front row seat to whatever self-destructive tendencies Stinger was up to this time. A piece of Spada hated that he immediately went to the worst case scenario where Stinger was concerned. But two days ago Stinger had been ready to march off again, find Scorpio and would likely be dead right now, if the Commander had not stopped him cold by pointing out that he was taking Champ to Rebellion HQ and the reason everything had happened was because Stinger had not kept a level head.

Spada did not necessarily agree with that. He did not know all the details about what exactly Scorpio had said to Stinger, but Stinger was not a stupid person nor was he easily swayed. Scorpio had to have spun a very convincing lie in order for someone like Stinger to fall for it. Yes, people got a bit stupid about their family members, but this went beyond that. And no one had heard Champ’s last words to Stinger either. 

Once again, Spada found himself fuming at the Commander for simplifying Stinger’s feelings, even if the new mission was enough to stop Stinger from going to the surface. Any one of them could take Champ to Rebellion HQ, and maybe letting Stinger stay on the ship, with Naaga, would be better than sending him off, not knowing if Champ could be repaired or not. 

Time to see what was going on with Naaga. 

Spada sat down across from Naaga at the table.

“How’s Stinger doing?” he asked.

At least this time, Naaga looked up from where he had been moving blueberries around in the bowl. He blinked, focusing on Spada. Stars, Naaga looked exhausted and anxious. Which was really telling because Naaga didn’t usually look like any emotion. Naaga slowly shook his head.

“Not good.”

“What does that mean?” Spada prompted, gently, keeping his expression neutral but open.

“He’s not eating or sleeping.”

Spada could have easily guessed the not eating part. He continued to put food aside for Stinger after every meal, hoping that the food might be gone by the next meal. For the past few days, no luck. Yesterday, Spada had started making a completely different meal for Stinger, something that he knew Stinger had enjoyed in the past. Unfortunately, with Stinger, there was still a lot of guesswork there. Spada prided himself on noticing things people liked and didn’t like to eat, especially remembering when someone went back for seconds on something. Stinger had none of the usual tells where food was concerned, meaning outside of coffee and raw fruits and vegetables, Spada really had no idea what Stinger really liked. 

“I don’t even think he’s eating energy bars,” Naaga continued. “And I know he’s dehydrated, which means he’s not even drinking water.”

Spada made a sympathetic face. “He’s not been getting any food from the galley.” He paused and then asked, “And the sleeping?”

“He goes to bed at night, but I know he’s just lying awake. When I wake up, he’s gone.”

Spada quickly ran over that new piece of information in his head. Everyone on the ship had their own room, no sharing required. So how would Naaga know if Stinger went to bed and then was gone when Naaga himself woke up? The only way Naaga would know that is if they were sharing a room or at least sleeping in the same room. And none of the rooms had two beds, which meant someone was sleeping on the floor… or, they were sharing a bed, which… 

_Che cavolo!_

How could Spada have completely and utterly missed every single sign here? Like the brunch that Stinger had actually attended, and he and Naaga sat closer together than normal friends. The casual touches on the wrist or knee? Spada might touch Hame’s shoulder or wrist, because their friendship was more like siblings, familial, but he would not have given those touches to any other friend. Definitely not their knee. And Naaga always seemed to know where Stinger was, what Stinger liked or didn’t like, which Spada had chalked up to being friends. Spada knew they were in each other’s rooms, a lot, but it never even occurred to him to speculate that they might be spending the night in one another’s rooms. And now that he was really thinking about it, when they briefly saw Stinger on the bridge two days ago, he’d been wearing a silver ring on the ring finger of his right hand. And Naaga had an identical ring on the same finger.

_Porca miseria._

Naaga and Stinger were lovers.

And Naaga was so sleep deprived he revealed something he otherwise never would have. Spada was definitely not going to pry or bring things up—they could tell everyone in their own time, when they were ready. But he could try to help here.

“I’m afraid,” Naaga said softly. “He’s going to make himself sick or worse.”

Spada let out a long breath. “And if he doesn’t keep things together, when he gets to Rebellion HQ, there’s a chance that they will just admit him to the hospital.”

Naaga nodded, looking miserable. “I read about that policy.” He paused. “And none of us will be there to vouch for him.”

“Maybe the Commander will let one of us go with him?”

“I already asked. He said no.”

Spada internally swore a whole bunch. “Okay,” he said, giving Naaga a level stare. “First, Stinger needs water and food. And then he probably needs to spend most of the next twenty-four hours sleeping.” _And it probably wouldn’t hurt for the two of you to make love_ , but Spada didn’t say that part aloud.

Naaga nodded, looking a little calmer.

“I can make him some soup,” Spada continued. “That will go down easier after the days of not eating.” He paused. “Then I can have some fresh fruit and vegetables for him.”

“He’d like that.”

“Is there anything else he really likes to eat?” 

Naaga looked thoughtful for a moment. Spada felt marginally better that even Naaga had to think hard about what Stinger liked to eat. “He liked the chicken and rice you made a few weeks ago,” Naaga answered finally.

Spada frowned. “That was literally just grilled chicken breast and brown rice.” Because he had been down to the staples because he had been really close to another shopping trip. One those days, he threw together the basics and the meals were very simple. 

Naaga shrugged. “He really liked it.”

What the hell did they even eat on Stinger’s home planet that he thought plain chicken and rice was a really good meal?

Spada nodded. “Can you get him here after everyone else eats lunch?”

“I can try.”

That was all any of them could do.

“Are _you_ okay?” Spada asked.

Naaga blinked. “Me?”

“Yes, you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really?” Spada fixed Naaga with a look that made Hame, Lucky, Raptor and Kotarou tell the truth immediately. 

Naaga squirmed a little, and then said, “I’m tired.”

Good to know the look worked on Naaga too. Spada gave him a sympathetic look. He stood up. “Let’s see if Stinger will come eat something.” He paused. “If not, then we can just disobey the Commander and send someone with him to Rebellion HQ anyways.”

Naaga nodded, looking way more comfortable with disobeying a direct order than Spada would have thought.

Oh right. Thief. How did he keep forgetting that?

\----------

“Please?”

 

“Naaga—“

“ _Please_?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to be around the others.”

“The others won’t be there. Just Spada.”

“Still.”

“Stinger!”

Stinger slumped to the ground underneath Sasori Voyager. There was no winning this argument, plus he did not want to admit that Naaga was right. He needed to go eat something. His head was pounding, his mouth was uncomfortably dry, and his hands were shaking slightly. In fact, his hands were shaking to the point that he couldn’t work on the Voyagers without causing injury to himself or the Voyagers. He wanted to just curl up somewhere and die. He could not make amends for any of this—to Champ and especially not to Naaga. 

Scorpio was the only family he had left, that was true. Their parents died when Stinger was really young and his older brother was not just a sibling, but also something akin to a parent. Scorpio was everything he had wanted to be when he got older. Strong and brave and caring. His brother had cared about everyone and everything, which is why he wanted to fight to help keep Jark Matter away from their planet. He wanted to protect everyone.

_“You’ve gotten stronger since you were a crybaby.”_

That hurt more than he would ever admit. He’d been eight years old when Scorpio went off to join the military, helping fight against the Jark Matter invasion. He didn’t remember his parents—the only person he remembered was Scorpio. So of course he had cried a lot when Scorpio was leaving him behind on Needle. He had been a child! He hadn’t understood why his brother needed to leave. And of course he had trained and gotten stronger—he wasn’t eight years old anymore. Gods, how long ago had that been when Scorpio first went off for military training? Fifteen years ago? Stinger’s birthday was in the summer and coming up, and Scorpio had left only weeks before his ninth birthday.

And he had been so ready to believe—he wanted to believe with everything in him that Scorpio had joined Jark Matter to save the universe, that he intended to get rid of Don Armage and return peace to all the planets that had been conquered, allow people to mourn for the planets destroyed. He wanted to believe that his brother was so brave that he would allow Jark Matter to hand him power and do terrible things for them in order to further his goal. And, fuck, Scorpio had sounded just like Stinger remembered, even singing the song, the song that Stinger had grown up hearing, singing himself, that he had memorized since childhood. He had thought, for a moment, that he might walk away from Rebellion and the others and help Scorpio. 

For such a short amount of time, he thought everything would be all right.

He could convince Scorpio to throw off the Jark Matter power, come back ORION-gou and join Rebellion, instead of infiltrating Jark Matter like he had done. He could tell Scorpio their next mission, next goal, because Scorpio shared their goals, right? There was no way he’d betray them. 

And then the crushing blow.

He hadn’t been able to breathe, to think.

His brother _was_ a traitor after all. 

All he could think in that moment was how he truly had no family left in the universe. He could not think beyond Needle and his childhood. He’d been so lonely as a child and everyone he had known from his home village was dead. Even Old Lady Makino, the person who had taken care of him when Scorpio was off planet. She seemed like she’d live forever and she was gone too. Everything from his past was completely gone. And he wanted, _he wanted_ , to save Scorpio. Maybe everything was a lie. 

In that moment, he was desperate and alone. He hoped that his brother would not actually kill him, but even if he did, would that matter? His entire mission was for nothing. And nothing mattered. So would it matter if his brother killed him, like he asked?

Champ had proven that, yes, his brother had intended to kill him. 

_“You idiot. You are not alone. You have Naaga… and you have me.”_

He reached out, taking Naaga’s hand. Naaga threaded their fingers together, moving to sit across from him under the Voyager. Naaga’s eyes were bright and anxious, like he was just waiting for Stinger to reject his attempts to help yet again. But Naaga was tenacious. He’d come back and try again. How many times would he try before he gave up, left Stinger for the hopeless case he was?

Naaga should have been furious with him.

But here he was, offering forgiveness and love and trying to take care of him.

He could not accept any of that. 

The anger, the hate, the fact that he’d completely forgotten everything he said about a future in that moment… Naaga should have been extremely hurt. And he was hurt, Stinger knew that, but his solution was not to push him away, put some space between them. Rather, he seemed to be determined to remind Stinger that he was not alone, someone cared about him, someone cared if he lived or died. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Naaga said softly.

“Why, Naaga? Why are you fighting for me this much?”

“You’re the one that told me love is messy and hard work.” Naaga shrugged a little, but also looked incredibly determined. “I’m not backing off at the first sign of a struggle.”

Gods, that tenacity again. He’d been so afraid the first night that Naaga would not want him to touch him, so when Naaga just accepted him quietly, he’d wrapped himself around Naaga, wanting to cling to him, just in case he changed his mind. For the last two nights, he’d been wrapped around Naaga, including his tail. The first night, Naaga had not noticed, because Stinger woke up before him and remedied the situation. 

And Champ… he’d been wary of Champ up until the end, so convinced he could save Scorpio and that Champ was wrong. Champ had been right, so right, about everything, and still went to save him from himself. 

Everything was crumbling around him, and no one hated him. He couldn’t understand it.

He let go of Naaga’s hand, reaching out to cup his face. He pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, Naaga responding immediately. 

He was so, so tired, and he was asking too much of Naaga, and he couldn’t stop.

“Okay,” he said, breaking the kiss. “Okay.” He let out a long breath. 

Naaga nodded. “We can head up there now.” He stood up, offering a hand to Stinger to stand as well. He accepted the help and Naaga kept holding his hand, leading him out of the Voyager Bay. At the door, he tried to drop Naaga’s hand. “The others are at their afternoon shifts now,” Naaga said softly. “We won’t run into anyone, not on the route we’re going.”

Stinger relented and allowed himself to be led out of the Voyager Bay and up to the galley. Naaga was right, no one else was around, off on their shifts. In the past two days, Stinger had not once checked the schedule, so he had no idea if anyone had assigned him to something. If they had, the work had not gotten done at all. 

The galley was empty, save for Spada, when they walked in. Spada’s back was turned and he was facing the stove. Stinger released Naaga’s hand. Spada looked over his shoulder as the door closed behind them. 

“Oh good, you’re here,” Spada said, glancing over his shoulder. “Give me a minute. I made some miso soup. Just sit down anywhere.”

Stinger gave Naaga a questioning look, but allowed himself to be led to the end of the table closest to the kitchen. Naaga had him sit on one side of the table and Naaga sat across from him. Naaga squeezed his wrist comfortingly for a moment. Spada turned and went over to the table for a minute, dropping off two glasses and a huge pitcher of water.

“Start drinking the water,” Spada said to him, tone no-nonsense and eerily similar to the way he talked to Lucky or Hame when he was fed up with their antics. Stinger was too tired to get insulted about Spada treating him the same way he treated enthusiastic knuckleheads. “Slowly,” Spada added. “If I had straws right now, I’d give you a straw, but I don’t, so just sip the water.”

Spada turned and went back to the stove. Stinger stared at Naaga, who just shrugged, and poured two glasses of water. Stinger followed instructions, slowly sipping at the water, surprised when he began to feel marginally better, at least physically better. His hands were still shaking, so he had to put the glass down often, lest they have broken glass and water everywhere.

They were quiet for a few moments, Naaga just giving him a vaguely encouraging look as he continued to drink the water. Then it occurred to him that Naaga had not eaten lunch either, because he had been down in the Voyager Bay convincing Stinger to come up here. 

Spada brought over two bowls of the miso soup and spoons.

Stinger glanced over to the kitchen. Spada was back over there at the cutting board, working on slicing some apples. He had some already cut fruits and vegetables on a plate. The rice cooker was out and on, and he had something warming in the oven. Stinger looked back to Naaga. He knew that Naaga and Spada had to have planned this, but still…

The glass of water was gone, so Naaga refilled the glass while giving him a pointed look to start eating the soup. His stomach felt unhappy at the prospect of the soup, and the spoon shook a little as he picked it up. He ate a spoonful of the spoon, swallowing and waiting for the bit to settle. When his stomach did not revolt immediately, he ate another spoonful of the soup. The soup was actually really good. They did not have fish or seafood on his planet, so he’d never actually eaten fish until he was an adult.

Naaga was sort of eating his own soup, watching him intently. He deliberately ate another spoonful of soup. 

_See? I’m eating!_

Before he was even quite aware of what had happened, the soup was gone. His stomach was not revolting and actually felt settled, apart from now growling again. (But properly growling and not hurting.) He picked up the water glass to drink more water. 

Spada came over with the plate of fruit and vegetables. He put the plate on the table between them. “I’ve got some chicken and rice too,” Spada added. “If you feel up to eating that.”

Stinger nodded slowly, reaching for a cucumber slice on the plate.

“Buono!” Spada said. “Let me get it ready.”

He slowly nibbled on the cucumber slice. Naaga had a hint of a smile on his face. 

In the end, he ate a fair amount of the fruits and vegetables, and then the serving of chicken and rice that Spada gave him, along with lots of water. He actually felt full and sleepy, the constant headache retreating to a dull ache and the shaking almost gone. 

As they stood up to leave and clear their dishes, Spada handed Naaga one of the cloth carrying bags, saying dinner and water was inside. Naaga thanked Spada and they left the galley, heading down the hall to Naaga’s room. Once there, Naaga put the bag on his desk and took out the two larger bottles of water. He then began to gather up clothes—clean shorts for both of them, Stinger’s loose black pants and black t-shirt, his own loose gray pants and navy t-shirt, his hoodie and Stinger’s sweater. 

“What?” Stinger asked, so lethargic he was not really stringing sentences together.

“We’re going to take a bath.”

“This time of day? Won’t someone see?”

Naaga shook his head. “They’re all at their shifts.”

And again, Naaga was not wrong. They left their jackets and Seiza Blasters and shoes—basically anything outside their pants and shirts—in the room, and went the short distance down the hallway to the baths. Middle of the day, deserted and quiet. Naaga got the towels and whatnot they needed, and they went into one of the rooms, locking the door behind them. 

Soon enough, they were both sinking into the hot water. Stinger was already sleepy, so the warm water made him actually consider sleeping here. He was sitting in front of Naaga, head resting on his knee, other limbs dead weight in the water. Naaga was running a washcloth up and down his back in a soothing rhythm, nothing meant to actually clean, just relax. 

“Why are you taking care of me?” Stinger mumbled.

Naaga’s fingers were in the hair at the base of his skill, gently massaging the spot. Gods, that felt so damn amazing. 

“Because I love you,” Naaga replied simply.

“But why? Why me?” He turned a little, glancing over his shoulder at Naaga. 

Naaga thought for a moment, fingers going to his shoulder. “Lots of reasons,” he finally said. “But you were the first person I ever met that really wanted to understand me.” He shrugged. “Even people from my home planet were not interested in getting to know one another.”

“But with Aniki… and Champ…”

“Your brother is a hard topic for you.” A pause, and then, “It’s not your fault.”

“How is my brother not my fault?”

“You didn’t drive him to Jark Matter. He made his own choices. I imagine whatever story he told you, any of us might have believed it.”

“He said his goal was to assassinate Don Armage. He joined Jark Matter and did terrible things to get inside their ranks.” He paused. “He was going to eliminate Jark Matter from within.” Stinger let out a shaky breath. “And I believed him. It never even occurred to me to doubt him.”

“He’s your older brother. Any of us would have believed it too.”

“Champ didn’t. Everything was too much what I wanted to hear. And I never saw that as a warning sign. I just wanted to believe him.”

“You just wanted your brother back.”

“I was so, so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. You wanted to have hope.” Naaga pulled him back, so he was fully sitting between his legs, leaning against his chest. Stinger just went easily, settling back against him. He didn’t respond to Naaga, because he still did not understand the forgiveness, the understanding. If their positions had been reversed… but that didn’t matter, did it? He and Naaga were not the same people. They both came from very different places and found each other. What mattered was how they were reacting now, wasn’t it? Maybe Naaga wasn’t being naïve or stupid about him. If anyone knew him well, it was Naaga. Maybe Naaga just knew he needed time and a reminder that he mattered to someone outside himself, outside his brother. 

“I love you so much,” Stinger muttered. 

Eventually, they got out of the tub and changed into the clean clothes that they brought. They went back to Naaga’s room, put away the laundry and crawled into bed. The moment they were fully under the covers and wrapped around each other, Stinger was asleep. 

\--------------------

When Stinger woke up a few hours later, he was hot enough to be sweating and his bladder was screaming at him. He sat up, dislodging Naaga, who stirred, and unwrapped his tail from around Naaga’s upper thigh. (Seriously, he had not done that before he went to sleep. He needed to get a grip on that before he accidentally hurt Naaga.) He stripped off the sweater and his t-shirt, and pushed away the extra blanket they had on the bed. He stood up and removed the loose pants, stripping down to just his shorts. All the clothing ended up on the floor by the bed. He padded to the bathroom quickly and shut the door. 

After a long and satisfying piss, he left the bathroom and walked out into the room. The lights were still off, and Naaga appeared a little confused. Stinger belatedly realized what the problem was—when they went to bed, they only wore their pajamas and had one blanket on the bed, otherwise the combined body heat would make being in the same bed unbearable. Better still, if they were both naked. 

“Stinger?” Naaga asked, sounding a little clearer. “What time is it?”

“Almost six,” he replied after a quick glance to the clock. He went back to the bed and sat down next to Naaga. He then pushed the hoodie from his shoulders. Naaga got the hint and sat up to shrug the garment off. He then stripped off the t-shirt.

“How hot are you?” Naaga asked, which sounded suspiciously like another way to ask, _How undressed do you want me?_

“We don’t usually sleep in that much clothing with this many blankets,” Stinger replied.

Naaga pushed all the blankets to the foot of the bed, and then untied the drawstring to his pajama pants, pushing them off, leaving him in only his shorts. They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Stinger closed the small distance between them on the bed, moving into Naaga’s space, pushing him into the pillows. One leg was between Naaga’s as he braced himself above Naaga, leaned down and kissed him soundly. Naaga responded, making a needy noise into the kiss. Stinger deepened the kiss, running his tongue along Naaga’s. They broke apart to breath and Naaga looked dazed, lips chasing Stinger’s. Naaga started the next kiss, catching him open-mouthed, fingers threaded through his hair to pull him closer. 

For Stinger, the kiss was warm and comfortable and familiar, but he knew that he wasn’t responding like he normally would. 

Naaga’s hands were on the waistband of his shorts. Stinger gently stopped him. “I… I can’t,” he said finally. “Not yet,” he added when Naaga looked concerned. 

Stinger was surprised when Naaga gently changed their positions, moving Stinger to lean against the footboard of the bed. He gave him a sweet kiss, hands running along his sides. “It’s okay,” Naaga replied against his lips. “I can.”

Stinger had no idea what that meant and, in spite of how hot he was, missed Naaga’s warmth when Naaga moved towards the headboard again. Naaga reached into his nightstand drawer and pulled out the bottle of lube they had stored there. He put the lube next to him on the bed and settled against the headboard, shimmying out of his shorts and tossing them over the edge of the bed. He was already semi-hard. 

“Naaga?” he asked softly.

“Let me,” Naaga replied equally as softly. “I just have to pretend it’s you, right?” 

And there was no way Stinger would have ever been able to predict what Naaga did next. Naaga’s hand ran down his own chest, eyes locked with Stinger’s. Stinger tore his gaze away from Naaga’s, watching the progress of his hand. He tweaked his own nipples, mouth falling open into a wordless noise of pleasure. His hand continued running slowly and deliberating down his chest, to his stomach, getting to his hips and reaching his cock. One stroke and he was fully hard, cock rising towards his stomach. 

Stinger knew his mouth was open and eyes wide. 

Naaga continued to stroke himself a few times, pre-come beaded at the tip. His let out a stuttering breath, eyes still on Stinger. 

What the hell was happening?

Naaga released his cock, going to grab the bottle of lube. He slid down the bed a little, gorgeous legs spreading as he got comfortable. He opened the bottle of lube and poured some over three fingers. His other hand stroked his cock once more and then traveled further, fingers fondling his balls and then, finally, finally, going to spread his cheeks a little wider, lubed fingers going to circle himself, before he gasped and then moaned as he breached himself with one finger. 

Fuck.

Gods, he hoped he wasn’t drooling as he watched Naaga work that first finger into himself, shallowly thrusting in and out. Naaga’s hips were pretty much grinding down onto his finger and he moaned, deep in the back of his throat. Stinger gasped as Naaga added a second finger. His cock was now neglected, rock hard and curled towards his stomach. 

When Naaga added a third finger, Stinger realized he wasn’t just hot from the extra clothes and the heat of being in bed with that many layers. He was actually hot from watching Naaga open himself up. He’d been too busy watching to realize that all the heat had gone south and he was rock hard. (He hadn’t thought he would get there earlier, which was why he tried to deflect when Naaga clearly wanted sex.)

Stinger quickly shoved off his shorts, kicking them to the floor with their other abandoned clothing. “Stinger,” Naaga moaned as he watched him move.

He grabbed the bottle of lube and poured some over his cock, quickly coating himself. His hands were on Naaga’s thighs, pulling him further down the bed. Naaga’s head hit the pillow and he whined as he removed his fingers, hands going to Stinger’s back, the lube getting on his back and he seriously did not care. He gave Naaga a few strokes, delighting in the moan that was practically ripped from his throat. Naaga’s back arched, hips searching for friction. His hand moved up to Naaga’s stomach, trying to settle him as he got fully situated between Naaga’s legs. 

“Please,” Naaga breathed, his chest heaving as he struggled to draw air. “Do it.”

Stinger guided his cock in slowly, moving one of Naaga’s legs to wrap around his waist. Naaga whined as he entered him, whine turning into a moan as he bottomed out fully, balls hitting Naaga’s ass. Naaga moved to wrap his other leg around Stinger’s waist, the heel of one foot digging into the small of his back, the other in the back of his thigh. Naaga’s hands were scrambling at his back. Stinger used one arm to brace himself above Naaga, and the other to thread through his hair as he leaned down and gave him a filthy, open-mouthed kiss, ravishing his mouth. 

“Move,” Naaga whined against his lips. Stinger pulled out and thrust back in, finding the perfect angle to hit Naaga’s sweet spot. Naaga moaned, head falling back against the pillow. 

“Naaga,” he groaned against Naaga’s neck. 

He kept thrusting, Naaga’s hips moving up to meet him. Naaga’s face was pressed against his shoulder, breath hot and teeth gently scraping. He was pressing kisses to any skin he could find as he thrust into Naaga. Naaga was hot and tight, and the noises he was making were absolutely delicious. How could he have thought for a moment he wouldn’t be able to get it up around this beautiful man? In that moment, all that mattered was Naaga’s soft skin and the breathy noises coming out of him as he got closer and closer to the edge. 

Stinger could feel his own orgasm building when Naaga tensed, gasping his name. He came, untouched, between their bodies, coming against their stomachs. Stinger thrust once more and bottomed out, tensing as he came hard inside Naaga. He damn-near blacked out from the intensity and, after a few moments, he realized he hadn’t just come, he’d fucking _emptied_. 

Naaga unwrapped his legs as they came down, shaking a little. 

“Will we be able to do that again before you leave?” Naaga asked. Stinger pressed a kiss to his lips and then pulled back a little, pushing the sweat-dampened hair away from his forehead. He pulled out and Naaga winced a little. But he just settled over his body for a moment, pressing him into the mattress. 

“Let’s rest for a while, and we’ll see,” he finally replied. 

Naaga nodded, looking content. “We should shower. And eat dinner.” He paused. “You need more water.”

Stinger rolled off Naaga, but stayed close to his side. He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist. They could take a few minutes to enjoy the afterglow before getting up to do anything. 

\-------------------

The next morning, Stinger kept an arm around Naaga’s waist to hold him close as they feverishly kissed underneath Sasori Voyager. They were alone in the Voyager Bay. Champ had been loaded into Sasori Voyager yesterday. Stinger would have expected a lot of fuss around seeing him off to Rebellion HQ, but he suspected that Spada might have put a stop to any ridiculousness. (Was Spada on to them? He didn’t have the time or energy to think about that in addition to everything else.)

Last night, they had taken a quick shower and ate dinner (which had been raw sliced vegetables, some leftover chicken breast, a little cheese and some bread.) They’d kissed lazily for a while, ending in mutual hand jobs, before going to sleep early. Because they’d gone to bed early, they woke up earlier in the morning, using the extra time to explore each other’s bodies, bringing each other over the edge in the gray pre-dawn light. 

Stinger did not necessarily feel bad about making out (sort of) in front of Champ, because the android had known about them anyways. 

When they broke apart to breath, Stinger just let out a shaky breath.

“It will be okay,” Naaga said softly.

“What if… what if Champ’s not…”

“You have his Kyuutama.”

“But that’s not, I mean, there’s disassembly and then there’s—“

“Stinger.” Naaga cut him off. “You won’t know anything until you get there.” Naaga smiled a little. “You’ll get to see Kotarou.”

Stinger made a self-deprecating noise. “Oh, _that_ reunion will go well.”

“Kotarou will understand. He didn’t want you to hate your brother.”

“Naaga…” He brushed Naaga’s hair away from his forehead. “I wish you were coming with me.”

“Me too.” A pause and then, “Just please take care of yourself.”

“I’ll try.”

“And call me, any time, day or night, if you need something. I mean it.”

“I will.” He pressed a quick kiss to Naaga’s lips. “Be careful. Scorpio doesn’t know which Argo Kyuutamas we have, but that doesn’t mean he’s not looking for the one still out there.” 

Naaga nodded. “We will. Balance can be very scary.”

Stinger snorted. “Only when he’s lost to Lucky at cards too many times in a row.”

Naaga actually huffed a small laugh at that. Stinger just pulled him close, embracing him tightly for a moment. Unbidden, the words of the song from his home planet drifted into his mind and he sang the first two verses aloud. Naaga pulled back a little, kissing him softly. 

“Try to forgive yourself,” Naaga whispered. “Or at least learn to live with it.” He paused. “You’re not alone.”

“I know.” He paused and then, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

_Counting the grains of sand across our world.  
Facing the light of the breaking dawn._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. YOU GUYS. I am legit terrified of Scorpio. WHO DOES THAT?! But now I am so ready to see how Scorpio's whole plan is going to go. (And Stinger, oof. Where do I even begin? My poor baby!) Sadly, since next week is back to the monster of the week, we may be looking at two weeks until the next update. (Since next episode seems to feature Balance, I'll have to gauge how much Naaga features.) Stinger and Naaga being apart again is a little bit of a wrench, so I need to table some of the fluffier chapters with them together and think of some good long-distance angst. (OMG. Yosuke Kishi is going to be the death of me. So will Yuki Kubota and Taiki Yamazaki. Oof.)
> 
> Once again, I love all my readers! Your comments make me smile and give me warm fuzzies! You all are the absolute best! Thank you so much for the hits, kudos and comments! Just drop me a note every so often and let me know you're out there! And, as always, if there's something you'd like me to explore, let me know. I'm happy to consider ideas. :D
> 
> Peace out for this week, y'all! Stay tuned!


	10. Always Heartache and Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We have a bit of a lull, so starting tomorrow morning until Friday morning, break time!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very mild spoilers for Space 17. This is set between Space 17 and 18. Enjoy!

**10/ Always Heartache and Pain**   
_There has always been heartache and pain. And when it’s over you’ll breathe again._

“We have a bit of a lull, so starting tomorrow morning until Friday morning, break time!”

The Commander sounded oddly pleased with himself for coming up with the idea. Spada glanced to the faces around the table on the bridge, trying to guess what they were all thinking for their unexpected days off. There were plenty of things to do on the surface, on Earth, and also plenty of things to entertain themselves on the ship. He cut a quick glance to Naaga, who was sitting next to Balance. He appeared to have perked up a little at the mention of time off. 

Spada could pretty much guess what Naaga was thinking—Rebellion HQ was only a two hour trip in the Voyagers. If they left early tomorrow morning, they’d still get there by breakfast. (Spada, Hame and Champ had spent some time at Rebellion HQ early on as Kyuurangers, so Spada still remembered all the meals times, curfews for the cadets, and, hell, when the swimming pool was open.) And, conversely, if they left early Friday morning, they’d make ORION-gou in plenty of time for their next assignment. 

“Awesome!” Hame said excitedly. “There’s a non-Jark Matter controlled beach on the surface Raptor and I was to try out!”

Raptor gave a little clap and squeal of enthusiasm. They’d both really had fun on Vela, so Spada was not surprised their current relaxation destination would be a beach. 

Spada glanced over at Naaga again, who didn’t really seem to know how to suggest going to Rebellion HQ and seemed slightly crestfallen that Hame had suggested something else. That was not an undue worry—when Hame or Lucky started something they considered fun, they easily drew others into their mob mentality. Well, not mob mentality. Just everyone jumping on the enthusiasm train of any marginally good idea. 

If there was one thing Spada had gotten really good at since being on this ship and becoming a Kyuuranger, it was giving other people an out. (Or an in, really, in this case.)

“Why don’t some of us head to Rebellion HQ?” Spada said quickly. “You know, check on Stinger and Champ, visit Kotarou?”

Naaga brightened subtly at that suggestion. For a whole second, Spada thought the trip might just be him and Naaga, and would be relatively quiet. Naaga would spend every waking moment with Stinger, so Spada could reconnect with the folks in the kitchen at HQ, get to use some of their really awesome toys (convection oven, for one) and make some treats for everyone back on ORION-gou. He could bunk in with Briggs and Merry (cooks at HQ), who had a quad room for only the two of them. Stinger had most likely been put up in a double room, so no one would bat an eye at Naaga bunking in with him. 

“Alright, lucky!”

Spada blinked, not expecting the enthusiastic outburst at that point in time. Lucky looked downright excited about the idea.

“That’s a great idea,” Lucky continued. “I’m in!”

“Okay,” Spada replied slowly.

“I love it!” Balance cut in, mirroring Lucky’s enthusiasm but with a weird conspiratorial undertone that Spada usually only heard when he was talking about treasure. Balance clapped Naaga on the shoulder a little too hard, because Naaga jumped a bit and looked like he might lose balance on the stool. He corrected quickly, no disaster. “Naaga and I will go too.”

“Yes,” Naaga confirmed quickly. “We will.”

Spada wanted to narrow his eyes at Balance. The mechanical lifeform had never been to Rebellion HQ, but then again, neither had Lucky, Garou or Naaga. However, seeing as there was nothing of interest to steal at HQ, and the people there were likely to treat all of them with a certain degree of reverence (meaning any foolishness would be taken in stride), Balance would have nothing to steal and no one to irritate. A state of being Balance despised. 

Unless… he did like to frequently and loudly state that he was Naaga’s best friend. Maybe Balance himself didn’t care about going to HQ, but he knew that Naaga did, so he was volunteering them before Naaga got caught up in a social situation he didn’t understand and picked the choice he didn’t want. Which meant that Balance had to have picked up on the fact that Stinger and Naaga were close. Whether he simply thought they were close friends or had actually figured out the extent of their relationship was up for debate. Spada was willing to bet the latter. If Balance thought Stinger was just Naaga’s friend, he wouldn’t be volunteering to go a place he didn’t want to go. 

“I’ll go too,” Garou added. “I’ve never been to HQ.”

“Excellent!” the Commander said. “Raptor and Hame will be on the surface. Lucky and everyone else will go to HQ. And I can stay on the ship and practice my singing!”

Well, at least Spada would not have to witness _that._

\--------------------

Stinger slumped at the table furthest away from people and noise, staring at the mug of coffee in front of him like the cup had personally offended him. Everyone was giving him wide berth. Which was fine. And warranted. (He had probably snapped at one too many people the first few days he’d been here. All the repairs were taking too long, they couldn’t tell if Champ’s memory had been damaged, just too damn much time! How could universally renowned android programmers and mechanics be going so slow! He’d trained to be an android mech. He knew that there was no rushing things, especially if repairs were to last. Knowing that did not stop his irritation or frustration.)

Kotarou was trying, and he felt bad for being short with the kid, but he was busy doing cadet training, hanging out with his peers, essentially having a good time. And he was fully confident that Champ would be repaired. Stinger really did not want to drag the kid down in his cloud of guilt and annoyance and self-hatred. Kotarou was currently eating breakfast with a group of kids around his age and looked really happy. 

“There he is! Alright, lucky!”

Stinger blinked. For a moment, he thought he was hearing things. The only upside to being at HQ was the lack of irritating enthusiastic outbursts, coupled with absurdly optimistic confidence. None of that. Blissful silence. Until now, apparently.

He looked up from the coffee mug.

No, he was not hearing things. 

Lucky was making a beeline across the cafeteria to him, Spada on his heels, looking apologetic towards the groggy people not used to extreme morning people. Garou and Balance were following, with Naaga trailing behind.

Stinger felt something in his chest loosen when he saw Naaga. Gods, he was so tired of being apart. The video calls were devolving into long rambling talks about nothing. The messages back and forth were pretty much all day, only interrupted when Naaga was deployed to the surface or assigned to a shift where he could not easily multitask. And, in spite of Naaga encouraging otherwise, his head and stomach constantly hurt, mostly because when faced with food, he felt ill, so he tried to choke something down. His lower back had started hurting recently too, and he knew that was from sitting on the hard bench outside the robotics bay and not really exercising enough. 

He itched to get up and just hug Naaga. He wanted to be close to him. But he resisted.

“We came to surprise you!” Lucky exclaimed, pulling up a chair to Stinger’s table and throwing an arm around his shoulders. 

Irritated with the casual gesture, Stinger shrugged his arm off. 

Spada pulled up two chairs, offering the closest one next to Stinger to Naaga. Stinger narrowed his eyes a little. Perhaps Spada was onto them…

“Hi everyone!” Kotarou had bounced up to the table, hugging Garou and then Lucky. “What are you all doing here?”

Stinger had that exact same question.

“The Commander gave us two days off,” Spada explained. “So we thought we’d come here and see how you two are doing.”

Kotarou looked really excited at the prospect.

“Hey,” Lucky said in an extremely loud undertone to Kotarou. “Why is he grouchy?” He nodded towards Stinger. “He not eat breakfast?”

_Because I got another Kyuuranger blown to bits and no one knows if he can be repaired!_ Stinger wanted to scream at Lucky. This had nothing to do with food! Why was no one in more of a panic about Champ? Why was no one angry at him? He was grouchy because no one had any answers and, even if they did, he’d still hate himself for everything that had happened. Champ had been saving him! From his brother, from himself. Fuck, Champ’s last words before he shut off were to remind him about the people that cared about him. Basically, he didn’t need his brother. His fists clenched against the surface of the table.

Then he felt Naaga gently squeeze his knee under the table, out of sight of the others. He glanced towards him and Naaga just subtly shook his head. 

_Not now. It’s not worth getting angry at him._

“Stinger didn’t eat breakfast. All he got was coffee.”

Stinger slowly turned to Kotarou, fixing him with a glare that would have made even Lucky run away. But Kotarou just gave him a typical insolent kid look of _what_? So great to be around a kid that would just rat him out.

“Oh come on!” Lucky said, clapping him on the back. “You have to eat!”

Stinger was very close to throwing a punch, but Naaga squeezed his knee again. 

“I know the cooks here,” Spada interjected. “I’ll see what they’ve got this morning.”

“Do you all need to eat?” Kotarou asked.

“We ate before we left,” Spada replied. “If you’re done eating, why don’t you take Lucky, Balance and Garou on the grand tour? None of them have been here.”

“Sounds great!” Balanace said, and added quickly, “Naaga, I know you weren’t feeling well. Want to just hang out with Stinger?”

Naaga nodded. Stinger kept glancing back and forth between them. What the hell was happening?

“Oh, and I have our room assignments,” Spada added, passing out keycards. “You guys can drop off your stuff on the tour.” He paused. “Lucky, you’re with me. And Balance and Garou are together,” and, in an undertone, “Because Garou sleeps during the day and Balance barely sleeps. And Naaga, you’ll be in with Stinger.”

If anyone thought it was weird that Balance and Naaga were not sharing a room, no one made a peep about it. 

He didn’t really hear the departing conversation. Just caught that Kotarou was more than willing to show them around, with Lucky and Garou asking questions. Balance gave them a little wave as he walked off. The mechanical lifeform did not have facial expressions like others, so all his emotions or tones came from voice and body language. But he seemed damn smug this morning, pleased with himself. Stinger had a sinking feeling both Spada and Balance had figured out they were together, but likely hadn’t compared notes because their coordination was just a little sloppy. 

Spada wandered off to the kitchen. Now, Stinger was just left with hurting all over. 

“Are you okay?”

Stinger turned to fully face Naaga. He took a deep breath. He was about to reply with a deflection, something generic, but why even lie to Naaga? Naaga already knew he wasn’t okay. “No,” he replied, knowing his voice had just dropped into broken and miserable. 

Naaga looked like he wanted to reach out and touch him, but that would have to wait until they got back to his room in a little bit. 

“Does your stomach still hurt?” 

He nodded. They both knew the answer to that question and, even though Naaga knew why, he didn’t say anything. He just frowned. Stinger could practically see the cogs turning in his head. 

“Do you not like the food?”

“The food is fine,” he replied quickly. “They boil the vegetables into mush, but it’s fine.”

“Will they make you something else?”

“I haven’t asked, but they’re cooking for hundreds of people. It would be ridiculous to ask them to make something else.”

This wasn’t about the menu and they both were aware. 

“How is Champ?” Naaga asked softly.

He shook his head. “No update.”

Naaga pulled his pack from the floor into his lap. “I brought some mint tea.” He looked at Stinger, expression a little guarded and uncertain. “I know you don’t like tea, but I thought it might help settle your stomach.”

Stinger just gave him a tight smile. 

Naaga pulled the small tin of tea out of his pack and placed it on the table. “What have you been doing?”

That was the one thing Stinger had managed to avoid talking about. He did not want to admit to Naaga that he was wallowing and spending pretty much all his time on the bench outside the robotics bay. Or pacing the hallway. Definitely avoiding meal times and ignoring the snacks that Kotarou tried to bring him. The last time he’d been here, he’d only gone to the cafeteria at meal times, so he had no idea how to go about getting food when there was no crowd and no noise. And he had not asked. And he also felt sick when food appeared. 

Fuck, he was just a train wreck. 

“Waiting for updates on Champ,” he finally said vaguely. 

Naaga narrowed his eyes. “Spada said there’s a boxing gym, weight room, indoor track and pool here.”

“Those are far away from the robotics bay.”

“Won’t they call you if there’s an update?”

“Maybe not after I yelled at them.”

“You yelled at them?”

Had he really just admitted that aloud? Yes, because Naaga’s expression was now a mixture of exasperation and disbelief. Even Naaga knew that was not how to make friends or at least get people to loop him in as a favor. 

“Stinger,” Naaga said after a long moment. “You need to do something to get your mind off this.”

“Distractions won’t help.”

“Have you tried any distractions?”

Damn Naaga and his damn logical statements. Naaga clearly took his silence as a no. 

“We could go for a run this morning,” he suggested. 

Gods, Stinger hated running for the sake of running. Military training had started with what seemed to be an endless route to run, designed to build endurance. But he’d gotten to a point where, while he had no problem running on a mission, he was not running for fitness. He would do katas or calisthenics, but had not gone running since his military days. 

But… he wanted to be close to Naaga, and holing up in his room for the next two days would get even the most oblivious among them onto their relationship. Besides, he could not even think of a single better thing to do. Go swimming? He knew how to swim but not for exercise purposes. 

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But you will lap me. I hate running.”

Naaga shrugged. “It clears my mind.”

Spada reappeared with a tray that had dry toast and some sliced fresh fruit. He set the tray down in front of Stinger. 

“I know everyone in the kitchen,” Spada explained. Of course he did. “They have bread and fruit at every meal.” He shrugged. “They didn’t know you preferred that, but they said they’ll have some for you. Just show up at the counter. Don’t even have to ask.”

Fucking hell, why was everyone being nice to him?

“You going to eat or you going to glare at it?”

Stinger narrowed his eyes at Spada, but could see Naaga giving him a pointed look from the corner of his eye. So he just picked up the toast and started taking small bites, waiting for the food to settle before eating more. 

“We’re going running,” Naaga was saying to Spada.

“Buono!” Spada replied. “I’m going to catch up with everyone in the kitchen, so I’ll meet you over at the gym around eleven or so?”

Naaga nodded in agreement.

Stinger realized he’d finished a piece of toast. How did _that_ happen?

\-------------------

Later that morning, around the time they agreed, Spada wandered over to the gym. The indoor track was above the training rooms below, complete with observation windows down. Spada had always thought that was kind of an odd design, but seeing as the Rebellion HQ facility had once been a college campus for architectural design students, he supposed not too weird. He finally spotted Naaga and Stinger down in one of the rooms, currently using a punching bag. Stinger appeared to be teaching Naaga some technique, because every so often, he would correct his stance. 

Spada leaned on the railing.

Stinger was a damn good fighter, but so far, had managed to avoid training anyone else. Naaga was generally athletic, as Spada suspected basic physical fitness goals were a large part of Naaga’s home planet. And Naaga was a decent fighter, but was definitely still learning all the skills required. They both looked sweaty and disheveled, so Spada believed the run to have happened. Stinger was behind Naaga, moving his arm to mirror the movement he wanted. Spada could not hear their conversation, but Naaga looked incredibly focused. 

“Tell me honestly, how long have those two idiots been together?”

Spada blinked, turning slightly to see Garou walk up and join him at the railing.

“What do you mean?” Spada deflected. Just because he’d figured out the relatively obvious didn’t mean that others had—and he knew that Naaga and especially Stinger would not want anyone else knowing or speculating on their relationship. 

“Come on,” Garou replied. “They’re lovesick pups. They think they’re hiding it, but they are not.”

“They haven’t said anything and they’re both really private. We shouldn’t be speculating.”

“I know. That’s why I’m talking to you and not Lucky.”

“Why would you think I know something?”

“Because you are very observant.” Garou gave him a pointed look. “And I know you rigged the room assignments. Balance and I might be okay now, but that does not mean we’re buddies who want to share a room, however sound your reasoning.” He paused. “So how long?”

Spada let out a long breath. “I’d say two, maybe three months.”

“Sounds about right. That’s when they started reeking like each other.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah. They stink like one another all the time. Naaga smells like Stinger even when Stinger is not on the ship, probably because he’s sleeping in Stinger’s bed.” Spada wanted to comment, but kept silent as Garou continued. “And trust me, I know when they are doing things in Naaga’s room. They really need to confine that to Stinger’s room because Naaga’s room is too close to mine.”

Spada mentally tripped over that a few times. 

“Well, just leave them alone for now.” Spada glanced over at him. “Where’re Lucky and Balance?”

“Lucky is hanging out with the cadets, telling them all about being a Kyuuranger. Balance is seriously trying to piss someone off on the cyber team and no one is taking the bait.” Garou paused and then, “By the way, you should coordinate with Balance. He’s definitely onto to all this and trying to help Naaga.”

Spada swore in Italian.

“That’s the spirit,” Garou replied, clapping him on the back. 

Spada cleared his throat. “Should we go get them and then check on Champ before lunch?”’

Garou agreed.

They collected Stinger and Naaga from the gym. Both were wearing workout clothes—Stinger had dark gray three-quarter sweatpants and a black tank top with the most beat-up pair of sneakers Spada had ever seen in his life. Naaga was more what Spada expected in loose black athletic pants and a gray t-shirt and sneakers that were worn but not ready to fall apart. Seriously, did Stinger not know Rebellion paid them a salary and he could get new shoes? All he had to do was ask Raptor to requisition him a pair and they would go under the ship supplies.

“You’re going to need tape on those before too long,” Spada said to him.

Stinger glanced at his shoes and shrugged. “They’re fine for now.”

The walk to the robotics bay was relatively quiet. Garou asked a few questions about some of the places they passed and Spada answered to the best of his knowledge. The door to the bay was open when they arrived. Spada had to admit, seeing Champ as more of a whole was helpful, but still a little jarring to see the pieces that still needed to be attached. He, Champ and Hame had been on ORION-gou by themselves for a while—not a long time before Garou and Lucky joined, but long enough. Champ was a bull in more ways than one, but always believed in justice. Spada didn’t blame Stinger for what had happened, even though Stinger clearly blamed himself. Champ protected people and was a Kyuuranger. Some way, some how, Spada believed that meant he’d come back to them. A Kyuutama would not choose an android so easily destroyed. 

The tech looked a little wary when she saw Stinger, but brightened at the rest of them. “You’re the Kyuurangers, aren’t you?” she breathed. “Here to check on your friend?”

“Hi,” Spada said quickly, introducing them. “I’m Spada. That’s Garou and Naaga. You know Stinger.”

“I’m Sara,” she replied. 

Naaga was the programmer of the group, so he was easily able to ask her questions about recovering memory and the tests they were running on Champ. Naaga was engrossed with the information on a datapad, eyes combing through the code. Sara was enthusiastically showing them the recovery process. She was standing a little closer than necessary and flipping her hair back a little and—

_Porca miseria. ___

__Stinger was standing next to a work table with tools and had grabbed a wrench that could do a lot of damage to someone’s skull if needed. Spada moved so he was standing casually next to Stinger. Stinger’s eyes were wide and his nostrils were flared. Naaga was oblivious to Sara and Garou had to think this entire situation was hilarious. Spada reached behind Stinger to his right hand, which was holding the wrench. He applied pressure on exactly the right spot on his wrist and Stinger involuntarily dropped the wrench to the table with a clatter._ _

__Naaga and Sara turned around at the noise. Stinger was startled enough to look at Spada like, what the hell?_ _

__“It’s almost lunch time,” Sara said. “You all should get going.”_ _

__“Yes,” Garou said, sounding amused. “Yes, we should.”_ _

__Out in the hall, Stinger hissed to Spada, “Where did you learn to do that?”_ _

__“From Champ,” Spada said back._ _

__Stinger stopped walking and blinked, clearly not expecting that answer._ _

__“Oh come on,” Spada replied, grabbing Stinger’s arm and dragging him along the hallway behind the others. “Don’t look like that. Champ will be back. Get him to teach you when he is.”_ _

__At the cafeteria, Spada sent Naaga and Stinger to go get them a table while he and Garou went to get their food._ _

__“This kind of mass cooking does not ever smell appealing,” Garou commented as they made their way into the kitchen. “What are we eating anyways?”_ _

__“Curry for most of us,” Spada replied, getting their food from the warmer and handing the stack of bento boxes to Garou. “And then chicken, rice and raw vegetables for the one most likely to not eat. And soup.”_ _

__“I get the guilt,” Garou replied, but then caught a glimpse inside the massive freezer at Spada’s neatly labeled containers. “By the moon, how much soup did you make him?”_ _

__“Not sure how long he’s going to be here. Probably overcompensated.”_ _

__“I’d say so.”_ _

__Kotarou popped up as they were leaving the kitchen. “Who’s lunch is that?” he asked, making a face at the pile of raw vegetables._ _

__“Stinger’s,” Spada replied. “You could learn something from it.”_ _

__Kotarou’s expression clearly said he’d rather do any number of things than eat a vegetable._ _

__Lunch ended up being mostly Lucky and Kotarou talking about training and the cadets. Balance appeared at some point with a drink bottle that appeared to be full of oil, and they got to hear all the gossip about the people on the cyber team (which Spada suspected Balance had a hand in stirring up while he was down there.) Kotarou’s training group was going to a Capture the Flag game after lunch and Lucky was refereeing, apparently. (Spada was not sure how that was going to work—Lucky was likely to just join a team and play the game.) So they left pretty soon after eating._ _

__Naaga ate some of his curry, but then seemed to be full. (Spada tried to remember what he’d had for breakfast—Naaga could be a very weird eater. But if nothing else, Spada knew Naaga would be looking for food later that afternoon if that was all the lunch he was eating.) Stinger had eaten some of the vegetables and then was mostly stabbing the chicken with a fork moodily. (His current mood probably had less to do with Champ and more to do with Naaga, Spada speculated internally.) The food stabbing went on until Naaga (who was not even looking at him) closed a hand over his wrist. That small touch seemed to ground Stinger enough that he just ate the rest of his food._ _

__When they were done eating, Stinger made a vague excuse about needing to get something from his room, and he and Naaga took off, Naaga looking slightly confused._ _

__Since Lucky and Kotarou were already gone, Balance said, “Should we go check on them?”_ _

__“I wouldn’t,” Spada replied. “Stinger will be… “ He trailed off, not sure how to phrase the next part._ _

__“Marking his territory?” Garou supplied helpfully._ _

__That remark made Balance laugh and then shudder. Spada gave Garou an exasperated look._ _

__“What?” Garou shot back. “I’m not wrong.”_ _

__“So what did happen in the robotics bay?” Balance asked._ _

__Spada left telling that story to Garou._ _

__Well, he couldn’t say this trip had not been interesting._ _

__\------------------_ _

__The overhead lights were still off, only the muted sunlight from behind a curtain illuminating the room. Stinger closed and locked the door behind them, stepping into Naaga’s space in one fluid movement, pressing him up against a wall and practically ravishing his mouth. Naaga felt flushed immediately, trying to keep up with the punishing kiss, but Stinger was dominating and he just moaned in the back of his throat, hands scrabbling at Stinger’s back. When they broke apart to breath, Naaga almost felt a little dizzy, like Stinger had wanted to taste him so thoroughly that nothing else would compare. Stinger threaded one hand through his hair, pulling a little, the slight pain bringing everything into sharp focus. He angled him for another deep, fiery kiss. Naaga gasped, noises coming out of him sounding desperate._ _

__Stinger finally stepped back a little, breaking the kiss._ _

__Naaga knew he was flushed and breathing heavily. “Stinger?” he asked, voice uncertain. Something had upset Stinger earlier, but he wasn’t sure what._ _

__“Stinger?” he asked again, reaching out to take Stinger’s hand. “What’s wrong?” he asked._ _

__Stinger let out a long breath. “It’s really stupid.”_ _

__“That’s okay,” he replied quickly, squeezing Stinger’s hand. “Tell me.”_ _

__Stinger looked like he might just remain silent, but then said softly, “The tech in the robotics bay was flirting with you.”_ _

__Two questions immediately came into Naaga’s mind—first, what was that? Second, once he figured out what that was, that’s what she was doing? Hadn’t she just been being nice by showing him the data? He wasn’t a certified android programmer, but he did understand the code used and seeing their repair process had been fascinating. Sentient androids were harder to repair and, especially with someone like Champ, they had to be extremely carefully. The process was slow, but they were going that speed in hopes of a full memory recovery. Stinger knew that about the process._ _

__He frowned, finally deciding to ask the first question. “What’s that?”_ _

__Stinger blinked. “Flirting?”_ _

__He nodded._ _

__“You’ve never come across that in anything you’ve read?”_ _

__He shook his head._ _

__Stinger raked a hand through his hair. “Since you don’t know that concept, that makes this even more ridiculous.” He toed out of his shoes and kicked them under the bed. He then bent for a moment to remove his socks and toss them towards the laundry. He sank down onto the edge of the bottom bunk. “I don’t know,” he finally said. “When you meet someone and you like them or think they’re attractive, you do stupid stuff so they know you’re interested. Stand close to them, compliment them—“_ _

__“Flip your hair?” Naaga supplied, remembering one of the things the tech had done around him._ _

__Stinger nodded._ _

__Naaga crossed the small room, taking a moment to remove his own shoes and socks. He sat down on the bed next to Stinger. “People do that when they want what we have with someone?” Stinger gave a brief nod of affirmation. “But why would she do that with me? You’re the only one that I like that way. She was nice, but I don’t want that with her.”_ _

__Whatever tension was left in Stinger drained at those words. Naaga was never entirely sure why Stinger had moments of insecurity about their relationship. Naaga had thought about things a lot, especially with Stinger being away on the surface and now here. Married couples on his home planet were chosen for their compatibility and also complementary characteristics. More, they were paired together based on an algorithm. He would have never paired been with someone like Stinger. (Then again, someone like Stinger was unheard of on his home world.) There were lots of people in the universe, sure, but Stinger made him feel… more. Like they could be content with just one another, like they could build a future together. Outside of the Ophiuchus system, even strangers brushed Naaga off. He was too serious, too little inflection, no facial expressions… no one wanted to deal with him. Except for Stinger, who was going to get irritated about an android tech flirting with him._ _

__A few weeks ago, at dinner, Balance had been asking him about holidays on his home planet, of which there were basically none, he had learned. Balance had been shocked and appalled about the lack of gift giving. Then Stinger had just snapped, _Leave him alone. We don’t do shit like that on my home planet either_. And that had been the end of that conversation. _ _

__Jealousy, he thought the former emotion was called. Protection? Defense? Naaga didn’t know why, but a part of him found those emotional reactions from Stinger to be endearing. He’d never had anyone in his life before who wanted to defend him._ _

__Stinger’s fingers were on his chin, turning him so their lips could meet in a soft, sweet kiss._ _

__“I don’t think the others are expecting us for anything this afternoon,” Naaga said quickly and breathlessly, lips still close to Stinger’s._ _

__Stinger smiled a little, and then his hands were at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling the garment up and over his head. “Good,” he murmured, removing his own shirt and tossing the garment on the floor. In a practiced move, Stinger got an arm around his waist and pushed him all the way onto the bed. His head hit the pillow and he moved so he was laying completely on the bed. Stinger was over him, one leg between his and a hand threaded through his hair._ _

__The next kiss was closer to the ones when they first got in the room—heat and want. Stinger’s ran his tongue along his, getting him to open just a little more. Naaga gasped into the kiss, hips bucking up as he flushed, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out across his skin. Stinger pulled back a little, pushing the hair out of his eyes. Stinger’s pupils were blown wide with lust. “I want you so much,” he practically growled, fingers back in his hair and tugging a little, lips back to ravishing his mouth._ _

__“Stinger,” he moaned as he moved away from his lips, pressing open-mouthed kisses down his neck to his collarbone. He latched on just below and _sucked_. Hard. Naaga’s hips moved involuntarily again and he gasped, fingers searching for purchase on Stinger’s skin. He drew a deep, shuddering breath as Stinger’s tongue reached out, lapping at the bruised skin. _ _

__Stinger moved down, sucking again, but this time at one of his nipples. He cried out again, not an actual word, more of a moan. His entire body was hot, so hot, and he was almost completely hard, hips moving of their own accord. Stinger was pressing hot kisses down his stomach and had reached the waistband of his pants. He untied the drawstring slowly, eyes burning and focused on Naaga’s. He struggled to get air, watching Stinger’s progress. Stinger looked almost predatory, and he just wanted whatever Stinger was going to do. He felt himself harden completely, body knowing that when Stinger had that look, amazing things were going to happen. Stinger’s hands grasped the waistband of his pants and, in one graceful movement, rid him of the remainder of his clothing._ _

__Reaching out, Stinger grasped his cock, stroking to the tip once. Naaga gasped. His thumb ran over the tip, smearing the pre-come there. Naaga’s head his the pillow, tipped back, as a moan came from deep in his throat. He had to bite his lip, hard, when he felt Stinger’s mouth on him, tongue swirling and sucking. A pang of pleasure shot through him to his stomach and he could not stop the stuttering gasps as Stinger sucked once more._ _

__His eyes snapped open and on Stinger as he felt him gently nudge his legs further apart. Stinger moved so his was completely between his legs. Naaga struggled to breath evenly, quickly wiping the sweat out of his eyes, watching. The room was quiet with the just noises they were making, so Naaga did not miss the unmistakable sound of the lube being opened. He had no idea where Stinger got the lube from and, belatedly, realized that sometime recently, Stinger had removed the rest of his own clothing._ _

__Naaga felt one finger breach him, slowly and shallowly thrusting as Stinger sucked again. His breath came out in a halting line, desperate noises making no sense. Naaga watched for a moment, down his body, watching Stinger, whose hair had fallen into his eyes, and then his hips shot up as the finger inside him crooked just right, stars bursting behind his eyes. His head hit the pillow and his eyes closed, a low and needy moan coming out of him. Stinger added a second finger and Naaga just ground his hips down, relishing the initial burn. Why did everything feel so good with Stinger? He couldn’t imagine being this vulnerable, this intimate with someone else. Sometimes he felt like Stinger was taking him apart and then putting him back together, reducing him to nothing more than noises and involuntary actions._ _

__Stinger gently spread both fingers and this was it—Stinger was too raw and on edge to wait much longer, and Naaga just wanted him to. They both knew the bare minimum he needed before they could do this and he’d reached that point._ _

__Stinger removed his fingers and Naaga whined at the loss. But then after a moment, Stinger was moving up his body, tongue in his mouth, bringing him back to sharp awareness. The afternoon sunlight struggled through the closed curtain, pale beams lighting dust motes. He got an arm around Stinger’s back, fingers pressing into his shoulder blade as the kiss grew uncoordinated. The kiss broke and Stinger pressed his forehead to his as he slowly entered him, cock filling him inch by inch. Naaga’s back arched and his hands scrambled to pull Stinger closer._ _

__Before the initial burn had even passed, Stinger pulled out some and thrust back in. Naaga gasped, fingers digging in. The pace he set was fast and bruising, and Naaga knew he would hurt later that night and the next morning, but everything felt so, so good. His back arched into the pace, hips trying to move to keep up. Stinger changed angles slightly, keeping up the pace, and Naaga let out a whine, bursts of pleasure coming on every thrust._ _

__When he felt Stinger’s fingers wrap around his cock, he was done, coming hard between their bodies. His orgasm seemed to last for a long time, and he barely felt Stinger coming deep inside him._ _

__After a few moments, Stinger looked up from where his face had been buried against his shoulder. He gently helped him unwrap the leg that had been around his waist. When Stinger pulled out, he winced, feeling the warm yet cooling come trickle down his leg. Still shaking a little, he managed to roll to his side, Stinger settling behind him, not really spooning him or holding him, just rubbing his back with one hand._ _

__Naaga blinked, trying to process what they had just done._ _

__After a moment, he finally said, “That was… rougher… than we usually are.”_ _

__“Yes,” Stinger acknowledged, and then, “Are you okay?”_ _

__Naaga rolled over to face him. Stinger looked worried, reaching out to gently cup his face. “I’m fine,” he reassured him. He thought for a moment and then asked, “Is that something that people in a relationship like ours do?”_ _

__“Have slightly rougher sex?”_ _

__He nodded._ _

__Stinger let out a long breath. “Yes. Because they trust each other.”_ _

__“Like how we try different things because we trust each other?”_ _

__“Yes.” Stinger gave him a brief kiss._ _

__“I think I liked it,” he said softly, feeling a flush across his cheeks and voice sounding shy. “Not all the time,” he added quickly, flush deepening. “Sometimes.”_ _

__Stinger’s smile conveyed relief. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you warning,” he whispered._ _

__Naaga shook his head. “I trust you. I know you won’t hurt me.” Naaga pressed a kiss to his lips, chaste, but long and reassuring._ _

__When they broke apart, Stinger looked raw and vulnerable. Being here, waiting for news on Champ and still acutely feeling the guilt and anger and frustration, was wearing on him. And then the fact that Scorpio was still out there, now their enemy, and Stinger still blamed himself for his brother joining Jark Matter and their darkness. Stinger had done nothing that would even have remotely caused his brother down that path and yet, he blamed himself._ _

__Stinger got an arm around his waist, pulling him closer._ _

__“Hey, Naaga?” Stinger asked softly. Naaga made a noise of acknowledgment, quickly moving from afterglow to sleep. “Would you ever want to…” he trailed off._ _

__Naaga pulled back a little to see him better, frowning. He narrowed his eyes. Stinger still looked raw, but earnest in the question. Then it dawned on him what the question meant. “Would I ever want to be on top?” he asked._ _

__Stinger nodded._ _

__“Do you want to do that?”_ _

__“Not necessarily right this second.” Stinger paused. “Just, you know, once a year when I’m kind of drunk and feeling kind of vulnerable.”_ _

__“You don’t drink alcohol.”_ _

__“That was not the part of that you were supposed to pick up on.”_ _

__Naaga shrugged. “I’m happy with the way things are. If you want to do things that way sometime, just tell me and we’ll figure it out.” And that was the truth. He wasn’t really interested in changing that part of their sex life, because he enjoyed being pressed into the mattress or riding Stinger. He knew Stinger was worried about equity and Naaga trying what he wanted._ _

__Stinger’s brow was furrowed._ _

__“Stop thinking,” Naaga told him, voice stern. “Everything is fine. I’m fine. I like having sex with you.”_ _

__Stinger shifted onto his back so Naaga could curl around him, head on his shoulder, one arm around his waist and a leg between his. One arm was around Naaga’s shoulders. He closed his eyes, really wanting to just settle in and sleep. “Do you want to clean up first?” Stinger asked._ _

__He shook his head, yawning and said, “We can do that later.”_ _

__He felt Stinger shift a little and pull the sheet over them. (The bed had been unmade, with all the blankets and sheets at the end, because Stinger apparently did not make beds when Naaga was not around.) Stinger was tracing nonsense patterns on his arm. In a few minutes, he was asleep._ _

__\-------------------_ _

__Stinger woke up with a start a few hours later. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Getting close to dinner. They’d have enough time to shower and get to the cafeteria. Gods, he hadn’t slept for that long, uninterrupted, since coming here._ _

__Then he actually heard the pounding on the door._ _

__Naaga was now awake, eyes wide at the noise._ _

__“Stinger! Naaga!” Garou. “Time for dinner!”_ _

__“It’s not dinner time yet,” Naaga said with a frown._ _

__Stinger opened his mouth to reply, but then—_ _

__“I’m not leaving until I know you two are awake!”_ _

__More pounding on the door. What the actual fuck?_ _

__Stinger pressed a quick kiss to Naaga’s lips. “Go shower. I’ll get rid of him.”_ _

__Naaga nodded. He pulled the sheet off them and climbed over Stinger to get out of bed. He winced a little as he got up, walking gingerly to the bathroom. He could just use whatever soap and shampoo Stinger had in there—that was usually how they handled the shower stuff in their rooms back on ORION-gou anyways._ _

__Once the bathroom door shut, Stinger grabbed the first clothes he found, which were his workout pants and tank top from that morning. He had dried come on his stomach, but the tank top should cover all that. He dressed quickly and then pulled the blankets haphazardly over the bottom bunk. He then quickly hoisted himself up to the top bunk enough to pull the blankets back and smack the pillow to give the appearance of someone using that bed. He then grabbed all the clothing on the floor and shoved everything with his laundry. He ran his hands through his hair, hoping he only looked like he had bed head and not sex hair._ _

__As casually as possible, he opened the door._ _

__“What, Garou?” he snapped, irritated._ _

__Garou completely stopped moving, and then, “You need to take a couple giant steps back from me, because you absolutely reek.”_ _

__Lupine race. Sensitive sense of smell. He’d already scented everything that happened in this room. Fuck._ _

__Stinger wheeled back into the room, hoping he didn’t fucking blush. Garou was kind enough to step just inside the room and shut the door. He nodded towards the top bunk. “Nice job making that look like someone slept there.”_ _

__Was he supposed to respond to that? Was it a compliment?_ _

__“Look,” Stinger started, quickly formulating a speech about privacy and wanting to keep this between them. “We just—“_ _

__“Oh by the moon,” Garou interrupted, waving away his concern. “I already know. You two reek like one another and I can tell when you’ve gotten up to things in Naaga’s room.” He paused. “Do me a favor and confine all that to your room from now on?”_ _

__Because Naaga’s room was so close to Garou’s he could catch the scent._ _

__Stinger actually did feel himself flush._ _

__And yet, despite not wanting to know the answer, Stinger asked, “Who else knows?”_ _

__“Not that many,” Garou replied. Stinger’s stomach dropped. “Me. Spada. Balance.” He paused, and then, “Balance said Champ knows.”_ _

__“He does,” Stinger confirmed tightly. He thought for a moment and said, “You mean to tell me that the only people here, right now, who don’t know, are Lucky and Kotarou?”_ _

__“Looks that way,” Garou replied._ _

__“How the fuck are you all keeping it from that loudmouth?” His voice sounded panicked to his own ears._ _

__“I know you’re not talking about Kotarou,” Garou responded. “And give us more credit than that—we’re smart people who can respect your wishes.” He paused. “And besides, Lucky knowing would not be nearly as bad as you think it would be. I know you don’t really get along with him, but he’d be happy for you both and mostly leave you alone.”_ _

__Stinger blinked, trying not to panic. “How?” he asked, all his voice could manage without breaking._ _

__“How did we find out?” Garou shrugged. “I could smell you two, especially when you two started to smell like one another. Spada and Balance are observant. Although Balance caught on from things Naaga omitted rather than said.” He looked sympathetic. “I assume Champ found out because he was also observant.”_ _

__“He did.”_ _

__“Moons,” Garou said. “Don’t panic. No one is treating either of you any differently. You just really, really reek right now.” He pointed towards the bathroom, where the shower water was running. “Please take a shower before dinner and _scrub_.”_ _

__And then Garou was gone._ _

__Stinger shook himself. He glanced towards the bathroom._ _

__The showers here were more conducive to two people being in the stall and Naaga had just started. Plenty of time to get in there and join him._ _

__Besides, there was a lot of stuff he needed to tell Naaga._ _

__And Naaga would be _pissed_ about the Balance part. _ _

__\------------------_ _

__While getting their dinners from the cafeteria, Spada ran into the robotics tech from earlier in the day._ _

__“I’m really sorry,” she said. “I hope your friend isn’t too upset.”_ _

__“Stinger?” Spada clarified. “Or Naaga?”_ _

__“Both. I didn’t realize they were together.”_ _

__Oh._ _

__“Look,” Spada replied. “It’s okay. They aren’t very open about it, so we just try to respect their wishes and not discuss or draw attention to it.”_ _

__She looked confused. “Stinger is pretty overt about it.”_ _

__Spada managed a few pleasantries but reminded her they didn’t like people discussing their relationship. She seemed like a pretty straightforward person who did not gossip, so Spada felt better about leaving the conversation that way._ _

__But, _che cavolo_ , if those two kept up this way, their relationship would become the worst kept secret in all of Rebellion._ _

__\-----------------_ _

__The evening and next day passed in a blur of activity. Stinger felt like he was suddenly swept into more activity in forty-eight hours than in the entire time he’d been at HQ. Naaga had definitely not been happy to find out his best friend knew about their relationship and had said nothing, but then talked himself out of being more upset by reasoning that he also had not told Balance so Balance could also be upset by that omission. However the logic went, Naaga did not seem mad at his best friend nor did his best friend seem all that upset with him. (Rather, Stinger got the impression Balance found all of this, including the secrecy part, to be very amusing.)_ _

__At dinner, Stinger could tell that Garou was happy they had showered, but not very happy that they had showered together. He could get over that one._ _

__The next morning they ran the obstacle course with the cadets for no reason other than Lucky had volunteered them to do so._ _

__At lunch, Kotarou tried to question why Stinger was eating a bowl of, literally, just baby spinach, assorted chopped up vegetables and the smallest amount of cheese that Spada said counted for “protein.” Both Naaga and Spada told Kotarou he could learn from that example and eat a vegetable or two. Then they both ganged up on Stinger and made him eat chicken too._ _

__The afternoon was spent checking on Champ, going to the pool which started with Naaga showing people exercises in the water and ended with people just playing in the water, finding out there was a fire pit and going outside to make s’mores (Stinger built the fire) and retreating back to their rooms before dinner. For the s’mores, Kotarou had also found it weird that neither Stinger nor Naaga wanted a s’more and the only concession either of them made was to split a graham cracker._ _

__That night, everyone turned in early because they had to get an early start back to ORION-gou the next day._ _

__They were in bed, holding each other. No moves towards sex yet, but that would come. They were not in a hurry. Stinger would readily admit to Naaga that he wanted him to stay, but he was less ready to admit that he kind of liked having all the others around._ _

__Naaga pressed a kiss to his lips. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly._ _

__“It’s taking too long,” he replied._ _

__There was nothing they could do to speed along the process._ _

__“Whatever the outcome, you have to find a way to be okay,” Naaga whispered, eyes bright in the low light of the room. “I want you to come back to me.”_ _

__“I don’t know what I’ll do if—“_ _

__“Just call me. I’ll come here immediately. And don’t do anything until I get here.”_ _

__Stinger tried to swallow the lump in his throat._ _

__“I believe Champ will be okay. And he’ll probably tell you all about how androids can be repaired. Organic lifeforms can’t.”_ _

__“Balance gave you that speech, huh?”_ _

__“A few times.” Naaga paused. “Just… keep busy. Go to the pool. You’re not used to the water resistance, so it should tire you out enough to sleep at night.” He paused and then, “And if you feel okay, go build a fire for the cadets. They’d love to roast marshmallows.”_ _

__“Are you telling me to go make friends with the cadets?”_ _

__“They look up to us. You could pretend to be nice.”_ _

__Stinger threaded a hand through his hair, kissing him soundly. “You are so damn amazing.”_ _

__Naaga smiled a little. “I love you too.”_ _

__He had no idea what the days ahead would bring, but he had to hang on, if to nothing else than Naaga, and keep moving forward, chasing that small sliver of hope in the darkness. He’d held on to much less for much longer, so maybe, just maybe, giving up now was foolish._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be entirely honest, the brief glimpse of Stinger in 17 was enough for me to be like, "This poor baby needs friends. NOW!" Hence a lot of the inspiration for this chapter. Throwing Garou in the mix now. :D (And it's not just me, right? But Scorpio and Madaako has gotten super creepy.)
> 
> As always, big thanks to all my readers! Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading, kudos-ing and commenting! You all are truly amazing, and all the comments, kudos and hits give me warm fuzzies. Thanks for sticking with me and coming along on my ship! I appreciate you all more than you can know! Let me know you're out there every so often and enjoy! As always, any ideas for future chapters you want me to consider, throw 'em my way! Depending on 18 and where 19 leads us, peace out and see you again in 1-2 weeks. :D


	11. Broken Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are you going into Stinger’s room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Space 19. Turn back now until you get to view from your source of choice. (Also, set just after Space 19.) Enjoy!

**11/ Broken Things**   
_She’s got broken things where her heart should be._

_“I can’t do this. I can’t wait anymore.”_

_“Stinger, you’ve been there for almost three weeks. Just a little longer—“_

_“I’m not doing anything!”_

_“But—“_

_“Everyone else is out there fighting and I’m just stuck.”_

_Naaga was silent. He knew how hard all this was for Stinger. The longer the repairs took, the more he was forced to wait, the more stir-crazy he was going. Back on ORION-gou, they were going on missions, defeating governors and continuing the search for the missing Argo Kyuutama. Stinger was isolated and alone at Rebellion HQ._

_“Maybe Shou Lonpou will let you come back?”_

_The noise he made was hopeless. “He wants me here. He knows this was my fault.”_

_“Stinger—“_

_“Don’t. Just don’t. This was my fault, Naaga.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Everything from the beginning—Scorpio, Doctor Anton… everything is my fault.”_

_There was no talking Stinger down from the ledge he had gotten to—this had been weeks coming. The only surprising thing was Stinger taking this long to get to this point. Naaga wanted to stop him, wanted to tell him to not go off on his own, just come back to ORION-gou._

_But Stinger was already gone. The anger and distance in his eyes said enough._

_“What are you going to do?” he finally asked, softly._

_“I’m going to find Scorpio.”_

_“And then what?”_

_“The story he told was too convincing. I need to know what changed. Maybe he started out trying to infiltrate Jark Matter and then changed his mind. I don’t know. But I can find out.”_

_“Stinger… he will hurt you. Badly.” And not just physically._

_“Not knowing is worse.”_

_Naaga felt a tear roll down his cheek. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he whispered, “When will we be enough for you?” Another tear. “When will I be enough for you?”_

_“Naaga…”_

_He furiously wiped away the tears. “I’m trying to imagine growing up with just an older sibling—believe me. I’m trying. I can’t fathom how much his betrayal hurt.” He paused and then, “Scorpio is not coming back. He tried to kill you.”_

_“I asked him to!”_

_“And he didn’t hesitate before doing it!”_

_Stinger’s voice was tight. “Champ is in pieces because of me. Champ might never come back because of me. I can’t atone for that.”_

_“No one is asking you to.” Desperation clawed at his voice. “Stinger… I love you.” He hadn’t been going to say it, but, “Come back to ORION-gou. We’ll go with you.”_

_“This is my problem.” Stinger’s voice was soft and wavering. “Champ already got hurt because of me.” A pause and then, “It would kill me if you got hurt too.”_

_“Stinger, I don’t want you to get hurt either.”_

_“I’m already broken.” Stinger’s eyes were bright. “You showed me that I can love someone still. I need to do this. I need answers.”_

_“Stinger—“_

_“I love you. And I’m so, so sorry.”_

_The video call cut out._

_He tried the call again, but the comm lines had been shut down. He sank to the floor. He was terrified and had no idea what to do. There was nothing he could do—Stinger had gone dark. No one would find Stinger unless he wanted to be found. He wrapped his arms around his knees, more tears falling._

_He hoped Stinger would change his mind and stay at HQ. But if he didn’t, he was not sure this was a secret he could keep._

\--------------------

“Why are you going into Stinger’s room?”

Naaga had just rounded the corner towards the living quarters and had stumbled upon Spada trying to talk Lucky out of getting Balance to override the control panel so he could search Stinger’s room. They’d gotten back from Keel not too long ago and were setting out early in the morning to figure out why Stinger left his Seiza Blaster and Kyuutama, but stole their two Argo Kyuutamas to go confront Scorpio. If he went through with giving them to Scorpio, then their enemy would have everything they needed to defeat them. Stinger had been depressed about Scorpio, guilty about Champ, so him suddenly deciding to help Scorpio did not seem likely. Very little about this made sense. In fact, nothing about this made sense. 

“Lucky’s not going in there,” Spada replied, even though Naaga had not aimed the question at him. “Like I was telling him, Stinger was a spy for a long time. He didn’t leave a detailed note with his plan and thought process in there. He hasn’t even been on the ship for almost three weeks.”

“But we don’t know that,” Lucky shot back. “What if he did leave some clue? Why would he do all this without telling us why?”

Spada just gave Lucky a sympathetic look. All of them were struggling with this, so Lucky, who had arguably been the first of them to trust Stinger, was searching for answers, didn’t want to believe what everything was telling them right now. 

“He stung Garou and Raptor!” Lucky threw his hands in the air, pacing around the small hallway, clearly agitated. 

“They’re already out of the infirmary,” Naaga said softly.

“So he didn’t sting them badly?” Lucky’s tone was a mixture of disbelief and that fleeting hope that grasped at straws. 

“He wanted to stun them, not hurt them.”

Naaga was clutching his datapad and a brown sweater to his chest. He was guarded and defensive, but also very clearly anxious. Spada had never seen that level of anxiety on another person before, let alone someone as impassive as Naaga. He was approaching panic levels, knuckles white from holding the two items. Spada blinked. Naaga was shaking. 

“What is he even thinking?” Lucky growled. He turned back to the door. “Balance, open the door. Something has to be in there.”

“Lucky—“ Spada started, but was interrupted by Naaga.

“Nothing is in there! I already checked!” Naaga’s voice rose with anger, but also desperation. 

“You already checked?” Lucky sounded confused.

Balance had moved, physically putting himself between Lucky and Naaga. For once, the mechanical lifeform wasn’t saying anything, but he looked like he was ready to step in and defend Naaga from wherever this situation ended up going. 

“Yes!” Naaga pretty much yelled back. “He didn’t leave anything. He’s just _gone_.”

The last sentence seemed to break whatever composure Naaga had left. He slumped against the wall next to Stinger’s door, sliding down until he was on the floor, knees pulled to his chest, still holding the datapad and sweater. Stinger’s sweater, Spada realized belatedly. 

Naaga was rocking a little bit, eyes bright with unshed tears. “He told me he needed to do something, and I knew he’d cut off communication, but I had no idea what was going to do this. I didn’t know, I never thought…” He trailed off, a tear falling down his cheek. Balance got down on the floor with Naaga, wrapping his arms around him in a hug. Naaga didn’t seem to acknowledge the embrace, eyes wide and distant. 

Lucky’s confusion grew the more Naaga talked. He looked over at Spada.

Spada considered replying, until, “Mou! Lucky! So loud!” Hame came around the corner, wearing her jacket over her pajamas, looking extremely irritated. “There’s enough going on and we have to leave early, and you’re out here yelling.” She stopped short at the scene in the hallway. “What are you guys doing, anyways?” she finally asked. 

The hallway fell eerily silent, the only sounds Naaga’s soft sobs and Balance’s whirring joints as he tried to comfort Naaga. 

Lucky looked at Naaga for a long moment, before replying, “Nothing. I’m going to bed.” He pushed past Hame and Spada, and turned the corner towards his own room. 

Hame frowned at Naaga and then looked at Spada, before saying softly, “Is he okay?”

“No,” Spada replied. “He’s not.”

“He looks sick,” Hame continued. “Should he spend the night in the infirmary? Raptor’s okay now. She can give him a scan and keep an eye on him.”

Spada didn’t have the energy to tell her that what was wrong with Naaga would not be fixed with a scan and some medicine. But the infirmary would put Naaga in a neutral place for a little while until they could find another solution for tonight. He gently squeezed Hame’s shoulder.

“Go back to bed, Hame-chan,” he said. “We’ll make sure Naaga gets to bed.”

Hame nodded, looking worried. She glanced over her shoulder at them as she walked back down the hallway towards her room. 

Spada took a deep, steadying breath. He crouched down on the floor so he was eye-level with Naaga and Balance. “Balance, can you go to Naaga’s room and get his pajamas, please? I’ll take him down to the infirmary for a little bit.” That would have made more sense the other way around, but both Spada and Balance knew that Spada was not getting into Naaga’s room unless Naaga specifically intended him to be there. 

Balance nodded. He gave Naaga one last squeezing hug, before getting up. Then both he and Spada got Naaga on his feet. “Naaga,” Balance said softly, “Do you want me to take your datapad back to your room?”

Naaga surrendered the datapad without a fight, but clutched the sweater tighter. Balance squeezed his shoulder and then headed off towards Naaga’s room. Naaga allowed Spada to lead him out of the living quarters and down one level to the infirmary. 

Raptor was not in the infirmary when they got there, which was just as well. Between the fact that Stinger stung her earlier and her tendency to flutter around when she was worried, Spada could not imagine that her presence would be at all helpful to Naaga. He sat Naaga down on the edge of the nearest bed. 

Naaga was rocking again, a little. Spada sat down next to him. “Did Stinger tell you he was leaving HQ?” Spada asked softly. 

Naaga nodded, sniffing a little and still crying some. “He said he needed to find answers, but I didn’t know about this. I don’t know what it is.” He was full-on crying again, which was heartbreaking and more than a little jarring to see on Naaga. Spada internally swore in Italian. Stinger meant the world to Naaga and Naaga loved him without question, making this all the harder for Naaga. 

“I know he hates what Scorpio has become, but,” Naaga continued, arms wrapped around his stomach as if he was in pain, which he likely was. “Scorpio will kill him. I can’t—“ A harsh sob cut off the sentence. Naaga’s arms clutched his stomach harder, and suddenly, he stood up, rushing into the bathroom. Spada stood up and followed him enough to know that he was completely emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet. _Porca miseria_. 

Spada grabbed a cup from a counter near the bathroom and a small towel. He stood in the bathroom door, assessing. Naaga dry heaved a few more times, before resting his head on the seat edge, completely drained and exhausted. 

_Stinger better have a damn good explanation for all of this or there will be a line to punch him in the face_ , Spada thought darkly as he crouched on the floor next to Naaga. He reached over, flushing away the bile, and then handed the towel to Naaga. He took the towel, wiping his mouth, face flushed and wet with tears. Spada rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and then rubbing circles. 

The infirmary doors opened and Balance called, “Naaga? Spada?”

“In here!” Spada called back.

Balance appeared in the bathroom door. He swore softly when he saw Naaga leaning against the toilet, towel clutched in his hands. He was holding an armful of what appeared to be Naaga’s pajamas and a stuffed animal. The latter gave Spada pause, but this was not the appropriate time to ask. 

“Naaga,” Balance said, setting the clothes on the edge of the sink. “Why don’t you get changed?” He motioned for Spada to come out into the infirmary. Naaga moved lethargically, turning as if he was going to make progress towards changing clothes. Spada followed Balance out of the bathroom, shutting the bathroom door behind him. 

“He just tossed his cookies, didn’t he?” Balance asked.

Spada nodded. 

Balance swore. “That only happens to him when he’s really stressed. The entire time I’ve known him, it’s only happened twice before. Once right before our first heist. He was really anxious we’d be caught. The other was when we got caught at a Jark Matter checkpoint and interrogated.” He paused, sounding truly angry. “I don’t care what Stinger’s thinking was, I am murdering him the next time I see him. No one stresses Naaga out to the point of vomiting.” 

Like Spada thought, line to punch Stinger.

“Murdering him will upset Naaga,” Spada pointed out. “Let’s just let a third party decide if he needs to be murdered or not.” Balance looked disgruntled at the notion. Spada motioned to the stuffed animal Balance was still holding. “What’s with that?”

“Oh.” Balance held the thing up. “It’s a penguin.” He shrugged. “It was on Naaga’s bed. No idea where it came from or why he has it.”

“You think Stinger got it for him?”

Balance snorted. “No way. Stinger would not be caught dead buying something like this. And he knows Naaga doesn’t like tchotchke. Presents from Stinger would be practical shit.” Balance paused for a moment, and then, “Dammit. I hate this. I want to murder Stinger, but also know that he knows Naaga too damn well.”

“So why’d you bring it?”

“It’s soft and squishy. Good comfort item.”

Hard to argue with that point. Spada picked up the sweater from where the garment had fallen to the floor when Naaga rushed to the bathroom. There was no dust in the infirmary, so Spada just straightened the sweater and folded it over his arm. “Speaking of,” Spada said, “I don’t think it’s a good idea for him to sleep in his room or Stinger’s tonight.”

“I agree. We actually want him to sleep and not wallow all night.”

“Think he can sleep in here?”

“Nah,” Balance shook his head. “It’s too clinical in here.” He paused, before saying, “I don’t have a bed in my room because I don’t need one, but we can set up an air mattress in there. I can power down anywhere, so that will give him some privacy in some place that hopefully isn’t charged with memories.”

Naaga came out of the bathroom. He’d changed into his pajamas and had the rest of his clothes in a bundle in his arms. He looked pale and shaky, like a strong breeze would knock him over. Balance took the bundle of clothes from Naaga. No one missed how Naaga practically snatched the penguin and Stinger’s sweater from them, clutching both to his chest in an iron, white-knuckled grip again. 

“Hey, Naaga,” Balance started. “How about you sleep in my room tonight?” 

Naaga gave a small nod, apparently beyond talking or arguing. 

“Okay,” Balance continued, “Awesome. Go with Spada to get an air mattress and sleeping bag. I’m going to go put your clothes in your room and I’ll meet you both at my room.”

All that sorted, they followed Balance’s instructions and, soon enough, they had the air mattress inflated in Balance’s room with Naaga tucked into a sleeping bag with an extra pillow. He was still holding the sweater and the penguin, and did not appear to be going to sleep for a while. “I’ll stay with him for a while,” Balance said, “See if he wants to talk.”

Spada nodded. “I’ll bring him some tea in a little bit.”

All that agreed upon, Spada headed back towards his own room. He hoped that Stinger knew what he was doing, because this could spell disaster for the Kyuurangers, Rebellion and anyone else that wanted Jark Matter out of the universe. 

\--------------------

An hour later, Spada had showered and changed into his own nightclothes. He carried a travel mug of tea down the hall towards Balance’s room. He figured the travel mug would keep the tea warmer for longer, especially if Naaga decided to drink the tea later. (Spada hated when drinks that were supposed to be hot were lukewarm or cold. He suspected Naaga felt the same way, especially since Naaga very much seemed to prefer warm meals over cold meals, even if the meal was meant to be cold.) 

Balance met him in the hallway outside his room.

“How’s he doing?” Spada asked softly.

Balance shook his head. “Not good. All I got out of him was that his stomach hurts and he doesn’t understand why Stinger is trying to get answers from Scorpio. Emphasis on his stomach hurting.” He gestured towards the room. “He’s also demonstrating that he can defy physics, because he’s managed to curl himself into the sleeping bag and get the thing completely over his head.”

“He’s kind of tall for that, isn’t he?”

“He managed it.”

Spada patted Balance’s shoulder. Balance was clearly a little hurt that Naaga wasn’t telling him everything that was wrong, but Balance also knew Naaga really well and knew that Naaga needed some space, needed some neutral people around him. Balance was his friend—best friend—meaning he was too close to the situation to be impartial. Balance would always take Naaga’s side, no matter what, and Naaga would want a more neutral perspective than that. Well, Spada and Naaga were not the best of friends, but Spada respected his boundaries and his need for privacy, especially around his relationship with Stinger, so there was a small chance Spada would learn more.

“I need to go into low power mode for a few hours,” Balance said. “I’ll just be in one of the maintenance bays. Once I finish cycling through everything, I’ll come back up here and stay with him.”

Spada nodded. “I’ll stay with him for a while. See if he’ll go to sleep.”

“Good luck. He can be infuriating to talk to.”

“He’s your friend,” Spada said without ire. 

“I know, and he’s a damn good friend. Doesn’t make him less frustrating.”

“Why did you become friends with him?”

Balance gave Spada an assessing look. “Because he cares a lot. He might not be able to show it, but he cares more than everyone else on this ship put together.” Balance gave Spada a small wave as he headed down to the maintenance bay in the lower levels.

Spada went into the room.

The overhead lights were off, but the small lamp on the desk was still on. The air mattress had been set up against the opposite wall from the desk, meaning Naaga was mostly shrouded in darkness. Balance had not been exaggerating about Naaga managing to curl up in the sleeping bag and get his head completely covered. For someone so tall, Naaga just looked like a lump under the sleeping bag. Balance’s room was neat, but full of more stuff than some others. He had treasure from various heists displayed like tchotchke on tabletops and shelves. Balance also liked colorful things, meaning there were colorful posters and paintings, throw pillows and an odd stuffed animal or two. 

Spada shut the door behind him and crossed the room to sit on the floor next to the head of the air mattress. He leaned against the wall, setting the tea on the floor between him and the mattress. 

“Naaga,” he said softly. “I brought you some tea. Chamomile. I know you like that to sleep.”

No response. 

Spada let out a silent breath. He’d been able to coax worries and fears out of the most stubborn of his younger siblings over the years. He hoped that Naaga would not be much different, and he could use the same strategy. 

“I know this is really hard,” Spada said aloud. For now he was just going to talk. “Stinger didn’t have the best start with the rest of us to begin with, and he holds cards close to his chest, so he won’t clarify things even when he should. That’s why Champ didn’t trust him for so long. I don’t think Champ ever thought he was truly evil, but Champ knows that good people can get involved with bad things. I think that Champ thought Stinger was likely a good person who had done bad things and was still in the midst of getting out of the bad things.”

Spada paused, watching Naaga shuffle a little in the sleeping bag.

“Champ knows a Kyuutama wouldn’t choose anyone truly evil.” A pause, and then, “But this. I know Lucky upset you by wanting to go through Stinger’s things, but think about it from his perspective. He’s stood up for Stinger from the beginning, defended him to Champ, chose to believe him before any of the rest of us thought that was a wise idea. And now we don’t know why Stinger is doing what he’s doing. He’s grasping, because he doesn’t want to be wrong about Stinger. None of us want to be wrong about Stinger.”

He continued, “He left his Kyuutama and his Seiza Blaster. He stunned Garou and Raptor. He took the Ho Kyuutama and the Tomo Kyuutama. Any of us can guess that he’s going to find Scorpio and strike some kind of bargain, or at least confront him using the Argo Kyuutamas as bait.” Spada sighed. “Stinger doesn’t know that Scorpio got the Ryuukotsu Kyuutama.”

Spada fixed his gaze on a spot on the wall across the room. “Whatever he is doing is dangerous and reckless, and hurts like hell to the people that care about him. I’ve only seen Scorpio briefly and only know what Stinger’s chosen to tell the whole group, but I do know that Scorpio is incredibly dangerous.” He exhaled a little harshly. “People can get a bit stupid about their family members—I know that. I’ve got a pack of younger siblings that have gotten into trouble, and my instinct is always to take their side. But they’re not perfect. They’re human beings. They make mistakes. I imagine it’s a lot like that for Stinger. He and his brother were apart a lot, so he remembers the good times, the things that made him look up to his brother, admire him. He wouldn’t remember the hard times, the harsh things Scorpio said to him, the questionable things that Scorpio may have done.”

“Scorpio took care of him, but he wasn’t nice to him.”

Spada turned back to the air mattress. Naaga had unfolded himself enough to poke his head out of the sleeping bag, still very much curled in on himself, still holding the penguin and the sweater.

“I figured as much,” Spada replied.

Naaga unzipped the sleeping bag enough so he could sit up. He looked awful—pale, shaky, with dark circles under his eyes. He had the penguin and sweater pulled to his stomach, holding both close. He took a deep breath.

“Stinger can’t see the mean things Scorpio did to him.” Naaga’s expression very much wanted to know why Stinger couldn’t be objective enough to see that.

“Sometimes people don’t know cruelty isn’t normal,” Spada replied carefully. “That’s all they’ve known and all they see in the world around them.”

“His brother told him he was a weak, pathetic crybaby.”

And Stinger had clearly internalized that to the point that he was willing to do anything to prove that he was anything but. That explained why Stinger lashed out, and even why he seemed to give up when something confirmed the taunt. 

“It’s not true,” Naaga continued. “It never was true.” He continued fervently, “Scorpio took all the traits in Stinger that were good things and twisted them into bad things. Stinger can’t be himself because of everything Scorpio said to him.” A pause, and then, “Scorpio told him he was soft-hearted and that was going to get him killed. But Stinger’s not. He’s compassionate and has empathy and wants to help people.” Naaga sounded angry when he said, “Scorpio made him think all that is bad.”

_You have no heart. Even I can see that._

Naaga’s words to Scorpio suddenly made more sense, and explained why Balance had to pull Naaga along to help the villagers. Otherwise, Naaga might have stayed with Lucky to fight Scorpio. 

“None of that is bad,” Spada agreed. And yet, this was also explaining why Stinger was so closed off from other people. If he didn’t get to know people, he’d hurt less when they were gone, true. But this was more than that. This was purposely avoiding getting to know people so he wouldn’t feel anything for them, so he wouldn’t do something rash on their behalf. Because having compassion was going to get him killed. How Stinger survived that childhood and came out as good as he was, Spada could not fathom. 

And now that Naaga had started talking about this, he shared two more pieces of information that made Spada pause. “His brother accused him of killing their mother, and after their father died, he took his stuffed bear and threw it away.”

“Wait,” Spada replied. “Back up. Stinger talked about those things?”

“He had dreams about the first one. The second one really happened.”

“The first one doesn’t make any sense. Wasn’t he not much more than a toddler when his parents died?”

Naaga nodded. “He was about a year old when his mother died. From a disease unique to their planet. His father died when he was four. He was a guard and died in a skirmish, I think.” Naaga paused. “He knows what really happened to both of them. But every so often he has this dream. He and Scorpio are still kids, before their father died. Scorpio tells him that he was the reason their mother had died, like she died giving birth to him. He doesn’t know if it’s real or not, but it upsets him every time.”

“True or not, that’s terrible,” Spada spat out. “Either his brother said something that awful to him or Stinger just thinks he would say something like that. That’s sad either way.” 

Naaga just frowned. 

“Anyways, I _can_ see Scorpio thinking a harmless stuffed animal meant a four year old was weak and getting rid of the thing.” Spada was disgusted. His siblings were annoying, sure, and the youngest were still school-aged with his parents back in the Dorado System. And, yes, he and the siblings closer in age to him called each other names and fought over the last bowl of cereal and melted down because another sibling was “looking at” them, but at the end of the day, they all loved and cared about each other. Missing toys were always returned to the owner and a couple of his siblings had transitional objects they kept well into being adults. There was nothing wrong with that. 

Spada wondered what both their parents dying and becoming Stinger’s guardian had done to Scorpio. From what he could tell, Scorpio was quite a bit older than Stinger, and without all the siblings in between like Spada had. Spada would guess that he and his younger sister in high school was about the same age gap as Scorpio and Stinger. How had someone with a manipulative, cruel streak manage to tamp it down enough to make Stinger think he was strong and brave? Maybe Scorpio had two sides warring against him—what he knew was right, and what he really wanted? Who knew? 

Until Stinger reappeared and actually talked to someone, none of them would know.

Spada glanced at the penguin in Naaga’s lap.

_Che cavolo._

The penguin wasn’t _from_ Stinger. The penguin was _for_ Stinger.

“You got that for Stinger, didn’t you?” Spada asked softly, motioning to the penguin.

Naaga clutched the stuffed animal a little tighter, expression uncertain. “None of the bears were cute. Hame and Raptor said this one was cute.”

And Naaga clearly had no barometer to figure out if a stuffed animal was cute or not, so he had gone to the self-proclaimed experts on cute things. Naaga tentatively held the penguin out towards Spada a little.

“And it’s soft and squishes well.”

Spada touched the penguin. The thing was really soft and definitely squishy from the way Naaga was holding it. And, yes, the penguin was really cute. But the fact that the penguin was cute really had nothing to do with why Naaga bought the thing. 

“Why a stuffed animal?” Spada asked, as Naaga pulled the penguin closer to him.

“Partly the bear story,” Naaga replied, a little guarded. “But he also has trouble sleeping, and I was reading that holding something soft like a pillow can help.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“His birthday is soon.”

_Porca miseria_. “You were going to give it to him for his birthday?”

Naaga was looking a little watery now, tears threatening to fall. “Is it a bad birthday present?” Naaga asked. “I’ve never given anyone a birthday present before.”

Spada swallowed the lump in his own throat. Naaga had thought through the present a lot and had gone out of his comfort zone to pick out something. If that alone did not make Stinger think this was a good present, then Spada had no nice thoughts or wishes for him. He smiled tightly. “I think it’s a really good present. Stinger will like it.”

“He might think it’s stupid.”

“It’s a present from you. He won’t think it’s stupid.” At least, he better not. “Although you will need to explain to him what a penguin is.”

Through the tears, Naaga got a small smile. “He doesn’t know any of the animals on this planet.”

_Let’s just hope he hasn’t done anything to make Shou Lonpou lock him up._

Spada picked up the tea and handed the mug to Naaga. “Here. Drink the tea.” He paused. “We both need to get to sleep. We’re heading out early in the morning.”

They were quiet as Naaga drank the tea. Spada suspected that there were depths to Stinger’s complicated relationship with his brother that not even Naaga knew. Spada had too many hopes right now. He hoped that Stinger had not done something irreparable—with the Kyuutamas, with his brother, and especially with Naaga. He hoped that Champ was close to coming back, because Naaga and Champ could gang up on Stinger and talk some sense into him. (Or Champ could just hold him in place until he calmed down, mooing about organic lifeforms being pains in in the ass.) He hoped that there was some limit to Scorpio’s power, that they could find that limit. He hoped they could get all the Argo Kyuutamas back from Scorpio to stop the Moriamazuu fleet heading to Earth. Too many hopes. Not enough time. 

Naaga finished the tea and then settled back into the sleeping bag. He was still holding the penguin and the sweater. After a few minutes, his breathing evened out and he was asleep, utterly exhausted from the emotions that day. 

Spada collected the empty tea mug and turned out the lights, leaving the room. At the door, he turned back. Naaga was asleep, illuminated by starlight. He looked peaceful. 

Stinger was an idiot, but there were ten other idiots here who would fight for him. They’d figure this out. They’d figure all of this out. They had to. They were Kyuurangers. 

That meant there was hope.

\--------------------

Stinger held the box that contained the Ho Kyuutama and Tomo Kyuutama loosely under one arm, fingers going to twist the ring around his finger. He’d left everything on ORION-gou, everything except the ring. His brother was likely to kill him, and he was selfish enough to want one piece of Naaga close to him.

Naaga…

Perhaps one of his greatest fears now was his brother finding out about him and Naaga. He didn’t much care if Scorpio hurt him—he wasn’t sure there was anything Scorpio could do to him at this point that would surprise him. But Naaga… he was terrified of Scorpio getting a hold of Naaga. Being hurt himself was not a problem, but watching someone hurt Naaga? That was where his real fears were. He could stay away. He’d been doing that for three weeks. He didn’t have to find Scorpio. He could wait for Scorpio to find him.

That would only delay the inevitable. 

He wished, _wished_ , that he and Naaga could have that future together.

He wished they had a chance to be more than secret lovers.

Gods, he even once had a fleeting thought that they could name children after all these Kyuutamas that gave them power. 

Just a dream. 

Naaga, Kotarou, Champ… he’d eventually disappoint all of them, if not get all of them hurt or killed. That was why it had to be this way. That was why he needed to do this.

He hated what his brother had become. Even if Scorpio resented Stinger in some ways, there was still good warring within him. Someone did not fight against Jark Matter only to join them. Scorpio’s lies were spun too prettily.

And if his brother was well and truly gone, the good man who had faced Jark Matter to defend their people was actually dead… then Stinger was not letting him continue this way. He’d defeat this brother. The twisted shell of his brother could not continue.

_You’ve got all my dreams._

_I’ve got these broken things._

He looked down at the ground before pulling his hood up.

Time to go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not okay after watching 19 and the preview for 20? Oof. (Freaking Scorpio, what did you do to Stinger?!) But, seriously though, there were some great moments in 19 and what was with Naaga talking to Scorpio on Keel? Awesome. (And feeding my ship, thank you very much!) :D
> 
> As always, I have awesome readers! Thank you for the hits, kudos and comments! (This fic has surpassed 1,000 hits and since this is a small fandom [comparatively speaking], and I am psyched and choosing to look at this as a milestone. Woo! Go all of you for making this happen!) Drop me a note every so often and let me know you're out there! I love hearing from my readers!
> 
> I have ideas for the next chapter(s... who I am kidding? I have lots of chapter ideas!) so I am hopeful for a one week ish update. :D Thank you for reading, stay tuned, peace out, and have an awesome week. Until we meet again!


	12. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had dreams of Naaga and home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, dear readers. This chapter is set during episode 20. (Once you watch episode 20, you will definitely be able to tell when during the episode.) Pretty massive spoilers for episode 20, so please turn back until you get a chance to watch from your source of choice.
> 
> Also: while this story has not necessarily shied away from violent imagery (and definitely is good with smut), this chapter gets darker with some of the imagery. Not Supernatural or Walking Dead levels of violence, but definitely more than this story has seen in the past.

**12/ Stay**   
_All the love’s still there, I just don’t know what to do with it now._

_I am glad to have fought with you all._

This was not supposed to happen. Antares was supposed to allow him to completely defeat his brother. He’d die within a few days from the process, as his own venom was not supposed to be used this way. But Scorpio would be gone. He would have defeated the monster his brother became. He didn’t understand why his brother didn’t leave him with the others to eventually die. Instead, he grabbed him and hauled him off _here_. 

And Naaga… he could barely breathe from thinking about what had happened. He saw everything happen, over and over again, almost in slow motion. Scorpio brushed off Lucky with an attack and flung the same attack at Naaga, but then he used a blade to pierce through Naaga’s henshin into his chest. He saw Naaga’s henshin fade away, saw the blood on his chest. Naaga had still been moving and the blood wasn’t gushing when Scorpio dragged him away. He hadn’t wanted Naaga—or any of them—involved in this and there they were, fighting for him as if he had not just stolen their two Argo Kyuutamas and condemned himself to death. He hoped that Naaga would recover and that Naaga would get to have a life—a lover—that truly deserved everything about him.

Stinger had been doomed before he used Antares. 

Scorpio had him chained upright. Everything hurt and his own venom was still coursing through his veins, adding to the heightened awareness and pain. The only reprieve he had was to close his eyes, and that was when the dreams came.

He had dreams of Naaga and _home_. 

They were laying on a bed with pale blue, soft sheets. Morning sunlight was streaming through thin curtains. Shadows of trees danced through the sunlight, and he could hear nature outside waking up, chirping birds, leaves rustling, and buzzing insects. He sat up, pushing the blankets away from his chest. The marks from the venom were gone. The room was unlike anything he had ever imagined them in—light gray walls, minimal furniture, what appeared to be his own clothes on a chest at the foot of the bed. He glanced at the dresser. There were two framed pictures there. 

As quietly as possible, so he wouldn’t wake Naaga, he got out of bed and padded over to the dresser. He looked at the pictures. One was the only picture taken of them together, from the day at the amusement park, before anyone knew they were together. He was leaning against the railing, the lake behind him. He wasn’t smiling, but he also did not look scornful or angry, just content. Naaga was standing close to him, not quite touching, not quite smiling either, but looking pleased. He’d thought Spada taking the picture was silly at the time, but then he was glad. There was some small memory that they had existed and loved one another. 

He’d never seen the other picture before. They were both wearing suits, close together, arms around each other. They looked… happy. They were both actually smiling in the picture. Granted, not the goofy grins that the others often got, but just content, peaceful. 

“Stinger?”

He quickly went back to the bed and slipped in next to Naaga. “Good morning,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to Naaga’s temple. 

Naaga was looking at him, expression a little concerned. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. “Just looking at the pictures.”

Naaga nodded, reaching out to gently smooth his hair away from his forehead. Stinger caught his hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. “I love you,” he murmured, leaning forward to capture Naaga’s lips in a soft, sweet kiss. Naaga responded, opening for him immediately when he went to make the kiss deeper, sliding their tongues together, and tasting the cool clean air that always seemed to be on Naaga. 

Then Stinger realized they were both naked. He pushed the blankets off them both and then gently nudged Naaga until he was laying completely on his back. Naaga smiled at him, still a little sleepy and lethargic. The smile was a little wider than before, more comfortable, but just as loving as all the small smiles he’d gotten. 

Naaga’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer for a deep, fiery kiss. Stinger hummed into the kiss, one hand running the expanse of Naaga’s chest and the other threading through Naaga’s hair. They broke apart briefly to breathe, but then went right back to the kiss. He glanced down in the morning sunlight, noticing that Naaga was hard, cock curling towards his stomach. He pressed another long kiss to his lips, letting his hand wander downward to touch his cock. Naaga gasped, hips moving involuntarily as he touched him. 

Stinger moved his hand away from Naaga’s cock, back up his chest. Naaga whined a little, the whine turning into a moan as Stinger leaned over him, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses to any skin that looked appealing. His shoulder, his collarbone, his nipple, his stomach… tongue flicking out to taste his skin, sampling the salt as a sweat broke out over his body. Naaga shuddered, hips continuing to move to seek some friction. Naaga’s fingers were still in his hair, fingers tugging slightly.

He sat up. Naaga’s hand slid down to his arm. Naaga’s left hand rested next to his head on the pillow. And that was when Stinger noticed the ring. He was still wearing the silver ring Stinger had made on his right hand, but there was another ring, still silver, but definitely more care taken with making the jewelry, on his left hand. A wedding band. Stinger had identical rings on his own hands. 

The second picture on the dresser had to have been from their wedding day. Funny, he could almost remember the arguments about wanting to elope and not tell anyone, and Naaga protesting that wouldn’t be fair to their friends, so they compromised and got married at a courthouse, inviting only the other Kyuurangers. Kotarou had insisted on being his best man, even though they were literally just signing a form in front of a judge. They hadn’t wanted a party, but Spada and Hame managed anyways, having the party ready in their backyard once they got back from the courthouse. Shou Lonpou sang a song really badly, Raptor gave them a book of poems she’d written, and Balance told Stinger to take care of Naaga or he’d kill him. Neither of them had any blood family anymore, but the ridiculous party with all the antics felt right. This was their family. 

The house… the house had been in a neighborhood razed by Jark Matter. The original owners had returned to some of the houses, but the others were sold for a song. Granted, with a lot of repairs. They had money saved up from their Rebellion salaries, and both worked freelance now, helping train new Rebellion recruits, but also programming (Naaga) and android repair (Stinger.) Fixing the house had been what was going to drain their bank account, but the others had helped them and they ended up only paying for materials for the repairs. The house was now cozy, livable and, as Spada had pointed out too many times, perfect for a growing family. Stinger just remembered giving him withering looks. He needed to concentrate on his own relationship with Hame and stay out of theirs. 

This was just a dream, but he wanted the memories to be real so badly. 

He closed the space between him and Naaga, kissing Naaga soundly. Naaga pulled back a little, thumb moving to stroke his cheekbone. “What you thinking about?” he asked. 

“Just… everything.” He shrugged. “It all seems too good to be true.”

Naaga’s other hand rested on his arm. “It’s not,” he whispered. “We had to go through so much to get here.”

“I know.”

“But we made it.” A pause, and then, “We didn’t give up.”

“How did we make it this far?”

He wanted to know the answer, but the dream melted into another. 

He was standing in a kitchen—bright and sunny like the bedroom. The counters, cupboards and appliances were simple, minimalist. He was wearing a shirt and pants, barefoot, feet feeling the cool tile beneath, balancing as he worked. The shirt was unbuttoned and sliding off one shoulder. He was slicing a bell pepper, small piles of other cut vegetables also on the chopping board awaiting. For some reason, he knew he was cooking breakfast and was in no hurry, so they clearly had the day to themselves. He finished chopping the bell pepper and then turned to the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs. This was something he’d cooked before, but on his home planet they had powdered eggs rather than fresh eggs. 

A skillet with oil was done heating over the stove. He added the vegetables to the warm skillet. They sizzled nicely. He’d sauté them and then add the already cooked and crumbled bacon to heat. 

He heard a yawn and glanced towards the entrance to the kitchen with a smile. Naaga padded into the room, still wearing his pajamas. He still looked lethargic and sleepy. His t-shirt rode up as he stretched his arms over his head, revealing a strip of lean, flat stomach. He crossed the kitchen to Stinger, hands on his waist, lips pressing against his own in a chaste, good morning kiss. He reached out with one hand, gently smoothing down Naaga’s hair.

“Your tea is on the table,” he said softly, warmly. 

Naaga nodded, fingers brushing the exposed skin on his stomach. “Smells delicious,” he murmured. He crossed the kitchen to a small table they had in a corner. He picked up the mug that had been there, sipping at the tea. 

He added the bacon and then the eggs to the skillet, stirring everything to scramble the eggs. He had made this lots of time before on his home planet. He’d obviously made this lots of times for Naaga as well, but with better ingredients. Once everything was done, he transferred the scramble from the skillet to two plates. He turned off the stove, setting the skillet in the sink. He then brought the food over to the table, noticing that he’d already put silverware and glasses of water on the table. They sat down at the table, around a corner, next to each other. Naaga reached out and took his hand.

“Our mornings won’t be this quiet for much longer,” he said, almost a whisper. 

“Let’s just enjoy it while we can.”

Naaga squeezed his hand. “Are you scared?”

Stinger smiled. “I’m fucking terrified. But it will be worth it.”

He didn’t really understand what they were talking about, but something was changing.

Distantly, he could recall talking about adopting a child. Lots of planets were still recovering from the Jark Matter invasion, some had even broken out into civil wars. Children were without parents everywhere in the universe. They’d thought they’d have to wait a long time for their application and interview to be approved, but everything had gone through within weeks. They’d said they wanted an infant, and the agency had told them to be ready within another few weeks. This was moving much faster than either of them would have thought, which didn’t stop the nerves or the arguments or the massive amount of things they needed to get ready. 

Having already gone through the baby thing once with a second on the way, Spada and Hame had become the biggest help and support they could have asked for, telling them what to get, how much they needed, what made sense. Balance had put together a registry on their behalf, which they both yelled at him about once they found out, but the others rallied to help get what they needed. Champ had presented them with a teddy bear with a silver bow around its neck. 

“You told me the story once about yours going missing,” Champ said gruffly. “I thought you might like one of these for your little one.”

It had taken everything in Stinger not to cry. 

Champ had just patted his head and then pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. 

And yet, everything seemed to be coming together. Even Kotarou, now in high school and busier than ever with class, sports and his friends, kept popping by with some new stuffed animal or cute thing that he saw that a baby might like. “Call me immediately,” he said. “I want to meet them!”

They’d said they would call, but also would need some time to adjust before they had lots of visitors over to see the baby. 

He kissed Naaga gently, Naaga responding, hands on his waist. 

The excitement seemed to overtake the terror. 

More time passed. Another dream.

He was sitting in a room where the walls had been painted a soft mango orange. The window was open and a slight breeze ruffled the white curtains. Constellations had been painted on one wall, over a crib. Sasori. Hebitsukai. Standing watch over the crib. A star mobile was on the crib, the pale yellow stuffed stars lazily waving back and forth in the breeze. The bedding in the crib appeared to be green and yellow, and a high shelf in the room revealed a myriad of stuffed animals, but the only one in the crib was a brown stuffed bear with a silver bow tied around its neck. Stinger was shirtless, only wearing pajama pants.

Then he realized he was cradling an infant to his chest. He didn’t know if the infant was a boy or a girl, because the baby was wearing a yellow onesie and wrapped loosely in a pale blue blanket with yellow cartoon stars, similar to the mobile. He looked down and the baby was awake, staring at him with wide brown eyes. The baby had obviously been crying, cheeks wet, but was calmer now. He looked up as Naaga walked into the room with a bottle. 

Naaga smiled when he saw them. “I told you she’d calm down and wait for the bottle once you picked her up.”

_Her_. This was their daughter. 

He returned Naaga’s smile. He then adjusted the baby in his arms, like he knew what he was doing, and then accepted the bottle from Naaga. He popped the bottle into her mouth and she immediately began sucking the formula down. Her eyes were still wide and on him as she ate. His entire chest felt tight as he looked at the baby and then at Naaga. He’d only fleetingly imagined having a family before and this felt so right. Naaga leaned over them, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He then gently smoothed their daughter’s hair. _I love you both, so much_.

The dream faded. 

They were back in their bedroom, a piercing cry had awakened him. He sleepily inhaled, reaching over to the nightstand and waking up the monitor datapad there. The baby was definitely awake and crying, but she seemed to be safe and not in pain.

Naaga stirred, turning to look at him as he put the monitor back.

“Bottle, diaper or scared?” he asked Naaga. 

He watched as Naaga listened for a moment, and then replied, “Diaper,” pausing and then adding, “But she’ll need a bottle very soon.”

“How do you do that?” Stinger asked.

“I’m telling you, she has three different cries. I don’t know how to describe it.”

Stinger rolled his neck, before asking a question he already knew the answer to. “Whose turn is it to change her diaper?”

“Yours.” Naaga swung himself out of bed. “I’ll go get her bottle.”

Stinger pushed himself out of bed as well. Naaga went down the hallway towards the kitchen, while Stinger went the opposite direction to her room. He opened the door, padding into the room with the crying baby. She was still too little to sit up on her own, but had managed to master holding her own head up and rolling over. (Which she kind of did with an adorable wiggle. Stinger could not imagine his own parents on his home planet waiting for him to get to that particular milestone.)

He reached down into the crib and picked her up. She continued to fuss. And her diaper definitely needed to be changed. He quickly and efficiently got her onto the changing table, and got her into a fresh diaper. Her pajamas were fine, so he just left her in the original ones. She settled down as he grabbed her star blanket and loosely wrapped it around her, but was still whimpering a little. 

“I know,” he said softly, sitting down in the chair in her room, adjusting her in his arms. “You’re now hungry. Papa will be here with a bottle in a minute.”

She continued whimpering, but snuggled a little closer to his chest.

Gods, at first he had been terrified by this tiny human being that depended on him for survival. Naaga had seemed to have a natural knack for holding her, calming her and even feeding her. Stinger had been so afraid of something as simple as dropping her. But Naaga had always been tenacious. One evening, he just dropped her into Stinger’s arms and went to go get her bottle. He’d been expecting Naaga to take her back to feed her, but he just moved Stinger’s arms to the correct position to feed her and handed him the bottle. Within a few days, he was comfortable enough to hold her in one arm and get coffee with his free hand. 

That hardly seemed like a few weeks ago—almost four months. 

He stood up as Naaga walked into the room with the bottle. He leaned down, kissing the baby’s cheek. “Papa’s going to feed you now.”

He transferred the baby to Naaga’s arms, watching as Naaga sat down and start to feed the baby. He grabbed a small cloth from the changing table and put the cloth over Naaga’s shoulder to burp the baby later. He kissed Naaga’s temple, rubbing his shoulders for a minute. 

“She’s sleeping for longer,” Naaga said softly.

“I know. Maybe she’s finally going to sleep through the night.”

“We can hope.”

Piercing pain. Screams. And then another dream.

He saw Scorpio’s blade stab Naaga through the chest. He was screaming, but couldn’t hear because of the rushing in his ears. He ran, sprinting across the room, sliding to his knees as Naaga crumbled to the floor, henshin fading away, blood spreading across the front of his jacket. Stinger was screaming Naaga’s name. He threw his spear to the side, pulling his Kyuutama out of his Seiza Blaster to undo his own henshin. His hands went to Naaga’s chest, pressing against the wound.

Naaga was trying to talk, but blood was coming out of his mouth. No, no, no. He pressed harder against the wound, screaming for help. 

“Stinger…” Naaga’s voice sounded weak. Blood gurgled. 

“Shh,” he tried to comfort. “Stay still. We’ll get you to ORION-gou. You’ll be fine.”

“I… love… you..”

“Naaga, I love you too. It’s okay. We’ll get help.”

A rushing in his ears again. Everything slowed down as Naaga coughed and then went still. His hand went to Naaga’s neck, trying to find a pulse. Nothing. Naaga was not moving, not breathing.

“Scorpio!”

Hands grabbed him as Scorpio disappeared. A medic team from Rebellion had arrived and were converging on Naaga. Lucky grabbed Stinger under the arms, hauling him away so the medics could do their work. He struggled as hard as he could, was about to break free from Lucky, until Spada joined them, grabbing Stinger around the waist. 

“No!” he screamed. “Naaga!”

Hot tears fell down his cheeks and he continued screaming. 

Why? He’d tried so hard to keep all of this away from Naaga, from the others. And now, Naaga was dead and this was his fault. He should never have left them a note, let them know where he was going. They needed to stay far away from him, because he killed everything he touched.

He’d never realized the depth of his feelings before, but perhaps, for the first time, he realized that he did not need Scorpio, because he already had a family. He had Naaga. And Kotarou. And Champ. Even fucking Lucky when he wasn’t getting on his nerves. 

And now… he was killing Scorpio. He’d already been going to kill Scorpio, but now he was definitely going to do it. With whatever he needed to. A Kyuutama, Antares, a fucking bomb, he didn’t care. He was killing Scorpio, and then he no longer needed to live in this world. 

Later, he was standing in the infirmary. 

Naaga was laying on one of the beds, too still. A nameless, faceless doctor just shook his head and pulled the sheet completely over him. 

Stinger fell to his knees and then completely collapsed onto the floor. Hot tears streaked down his face and animalistic sobs were ripped from his chest.

“Scorpio’s dead,” a voice told him.

More time passed and he was sitting on the floor in his room, looking at the half-empty bottle of firewhiskey. Naaga was dead. He had nothing. He was worthless, pathetic, couldn’t even save the man he loved from his brother. He deserved nothing but the pain he got. He stood up, shakily, taking another long pull from the bottle. The firewhiskey burned like hell, especially because he had stopped drinking alcohol for a number of years. 

He had nothing left.

His death would mean nothing, and be a mercy to everyone left. He grew up hearing legends of an afterlife, but he didn’t believe in that anymore. He just wanted everything to end. 

He opened a drawer in the dresser, taking out one of his knives. 

He would end this. 

The room on ORION-gou faded into the room in their house. He was lying in bed with Naaga again. A dream. Just a dream. He sat up, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. He reached out, touching Naaga’s soft sleep-warm skin. He was real and he was here. He was not gone. 

He heard the baby start crying on the monitor.

Naaga blinked, looking at him. 

“I’ve got it,” he replied. “She’s just scared, right?”

Naaga smiled. “Told you that you’d get it eventually.”

Stinger gently kissed Naaga and then got out of bed, going down the hallway to her room. He paused for a moment, hand on the doorknob, smiling a little. This was mundane, but something he never knew he wished for. He wanted to worry about taking care of a baby, or repairing their house, or arguing about money, and not chasing his brother, half-wanting death and half-using the excuse that he wanted to clean up his own messes. Right now, throwing a birthday party for a toddler seemed like a way better use of his time than fighting Jark Matter.

When he opened the door, he reeled back for a moment, horrified.

The crib was covered in blood.

He yelled the baby’s name, sprinting to the crib. He dug through blood-soaked blankets, fingers moving through pools of blood. No baby. She was gone. 

“Naaga!” he yelled, dashing back down the hall.

Naaga was still in their bed, but too still, gaping wound on his chest still bleeding. 

_No_.

He killed everything he touched.

When he opened his eyes, a purple haze had been cast over the world and all he could hear was his brother’s voice. _Kill them_. And he could not question the voice. He could only do what the voice told him to do. 

So he did. 

\--------------------

“Balance, the legends can’t be true, can they?”

“Naaga, you need to rest.”

“But it’s just an old legend. Legends are embellished. No one dies from things in them, right?”

“I don’t know.”

“But what do we know about his people’s venom?”

“Not enough. They’re from a limited resources planet. Not much in the archives. They lived in tents on the ground, just trying to survive.”

“You can make an antidote, right?”

“Naaga, I didn’t actually make the last antidote. I just replicated it. Stinger sent me the formula.”

Tears were rolling down Naaga’s cheeks. “He can’t die. I still have his birthday present.”

“Naaga…”

“Why would he do this? There’s another way!”

“He didn’t see if that way. He’s in pain and that’s clouding his judgment. Scorpio blew up Champ. He’s terrified that will happen to someone else, so he wanted to end things the only way he knew—not as a Kyuuranger, but as another fighter from the Scorpius System.”

“Champ didn’t save him so he could fight alone and kill himself!”

“I know, I know.” Balance reached out, steadying Naaga. “Please calm down. The stitches in your chest haven’t dissolved yet and you are seriously going to hurt yourself.”

“I can’t. I don’t understand.”

“It’s hard—“

“I love him! Why can’t that be enough?”

“Some things are older, they go right down to the core of who he is.” He paused, and then, “You said yourself that Scorpio protected Stinger, but was also malicious and cruel, taking out his rage on those that hurt his brother.”

“He can’t die. It can’t be true.”

Balance put his hands on Naaga’s shoulders, keeping him in his chair. “Naaga, all the Argo Kyuutamas are together. Something will happen.”

“If it’s true, I won’t even get to say goodbye to him.”

Naaga was crying again, in pain, a little bit physical, but more emotional. Balance pulled him into a hug. There was nothing either of them could do. Naaga was too wounded to go back into the fight. Garou and Raptor were in no condition to fight after being stung. And someone needed to stay and helm the ship. 

“I wish I could make it all go away,” Naaga sobbed. “What’s going to happen?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” He paused. “But a Kyuutama chose Stinger, just like a Kyuutama chose Champ and you and me, and all the rest of us. Stinger’s in pain, but he has his Kyuutama with him again. There might be hope.”

“Hope?” Naaga sounded defeated, desperate.

“That’s gotten us this far.”

Suddenly Garou was standing over them. “Go,” he nodded towards the screen. “Watch them, send them Kyuutamas. I’ll watch over him.”

Balance nodded, giving Naaga another hug, and then moving towards the main screen.

This was worse than Champ.

He was terrified.

And they could only wait. 

\-------------------

Stinger looked between Lucky and Kotarou, Scorpio’s venom no longer controlling him. His own venom still rushed through his system. His Kyuutama felt warm against his skin. Champ. Kotarou. Two people who should have given up on him long ago, but didn’t. 

And Naaga facing Scorpio.

He did not deserve any of these people.

And he was not going to live through tomorrow night.

_Naaga. I hope I see you one more time and I can tell you I saw her—I saw our daughter. And I’m so sorry that will never be more than a dream._

He put his Kyuutama in his Seiza Blaster.

Time to end things with Scorpio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, you guys. SERIOUSLY. What is with this show and the stakes always being someone's life?! (Some of the other series have had "this is getting serious" moments, but not straight-up, "oh yeah, this dude is a goner." Caveat: the series I have watched. Definitely have not seen all of them.) My two main thoughts after episode 20: 1. Nooooo... wait. He's in the preview for the movie, so, as in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, he clearly gets better. 2. Keisuke Minami, you and your biceps and your Argo ship better get in here and fix this stuff right now!
> 
> But dear readers, you all are amazing! I am itching to write some fluff for this story, so hopefully the series gives me a break for a few episodes and I can deliver some top-quality fluff to balance out all this angst. Thank you for the continuing hits, kudos and comments! Your comments make my day, and I love hearing from all of you! (I've said it before and I'll say it again, just let me know if there is something you want me to explore. Some of my early chapter ideas got thrown out as the show progressed so I am open to new ideas.) Drop me a line once in a while, let me know you're out there, and thank you for reading! I have awesome readers and am so thrilled you're with me on this journey!
> 
> Have a fabulous week, peace out and stay tuned! Here's to the nail-biting tension of waiting to see how episode 21 resolves itself!


	13. Deep Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stinger slumped in the hallway outside the Voyager Bay, glad to finally be back on ORION-gou and alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This is set right after episode 21 and some fairly major spoilers are contained therein, so maybe don't read until you get a chance to watch from your source of choice? Enjoy!

**13/ Deep Water**   
_And you wake up to realize your standard of living somehow got stuck on survive._

Stinger slumped in the hallway outside the Voyager Bay, glad to finally be back on ORION-gou and alone. He would never understand why the others weren’t upset with him, not even a little. He knew he needed to apologize, but had hated every moment. What did it matter if he was sorry? He would need time to prove that he would change and a few hours since this entire catastrophe had wrapped up was hardly enough. So he said what he needed to and got the hell out of there.

He didn’t want to face anyone else tonight and, on top of everything else, he felt physically awful. He wanted to collapse face-first into bed. But he couldn’t. Not until he saw Naaga alone. Lucky had assured him multiple times that the wound had been shallow, nothing vital had been damaged, and Naaga was fine. A few stitches and a bandage. He had to rest, but he was going to be fine. Stinger itched to ask how upset Naaga was with him, but some of them were still relatively in the dark about that (he thought) so he stopped himself. 

Stinger was about to go into the Voyager Bay, but someone grabbed him by the front of the shirt and hauled him against a wall. He involuntarily yelped in surprise before focusing on who had grabbed him. Balance. The mechanical lifeform seemed to be scanning him, before he said, “You look better.”

“Yes.” That was the only answer he had.

Balance released his shirt, but then used his forearm to keep him pinned against the wall. Stinger only gave a token struggle, too tired to actually struggle. He knew why Balance was down here, and he deserved whatever Balance was about to tell him. 

“You seriously fucked up, you know that, right?” Balance finally said after a long moment.

“I know,” Stinger snapped.

“You clearly don’t, you selfish little shit,” Balance spat. “Did you know that when Naaga gets really stressed out, he throws up?”

“What?”

If Balance could roll his eyes, he would be right now. “Of course, you didn’t. All you ever think about is yourself, huh asshole?”

Stinger’s stomach dropped. Of course he knew that about Naaga. He just didn’t think Naaga had gotten stressed enough, at least since they’d been together, for that to happen. Naaga had felt ill from stress a couple of times, but never to the point of actually throwing up. His heart was racing and he actually threw Balance’s arm off him.

“I did know that!” he shot back, voice raising. “I just didn’t know—“

“That he threw up last night? Got stabbed in the chest? Because of you? Ring any bells?”

“Balance—“

“Shut the fuck up and listen,” Balance interrupted him. “Naaga loves your stupid ass. No idea why. You’re stubborn. You’re mean. You have a death wish. But he fucking loves you. He’d marry your sorry ass right now if you asked.”

“I—“

“Did I not just tell you to listen?” Balance grabbed the front of his jacket, shaking him a little. “I’d be ecstatic if Naaga broke up with you right now. You do not deserve him. Not at all.” Balance released his jacket and he stumbled a little. “But’s he not going to. Because he sees something in you. Damned if anyone else can tell what it is.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“I don’t care if you’re sorry or not!” Balance snapped. “And I super don’t care that you tried some dumb stunt because of some stupidity about stopping your brother. I’m fucking mad because at some point in the last two days, you completely stopped thinking about Naaga, who you claim to love.” He got into Stinger’s space so they were almost nose to nose, if Balance actually had a nose. “So I will tell you one thing. Stress Naaga out to the pointing of vomiting again or do anything that even remotely smacks of you not thinking about him, and you won’t have to worry about Jark Matter killing you. That will be me who ends you. I’m three hundred years old. I know how to kill and dispose of organic lifeforms. Your death will be the perfect crime and no one will ever know what happened to you.” 

Stinger really wanted Balance out of his space and took a half-step to the side, back pressed against the wall. “I believe you,” he replied. 

“Good. Because you need to get your shit together, you—“

“Balance!”

The latest insult went unfinished, because Naaga had just rounded the corner. Stinger felt himself slump against the wall a little at the sight of Naaga up and walking around. Naaga was okay. He had to keep telling himself that, and now he had the evidence right in front of him. Naaga’s jacket was over his shoulders, and he was wearing a loose gray t-shirt, likely because of the bandages. He looked pale, the dark circles under his eyes prominent, but he had an exasperated look on his face.

“You said you would not do this,” Naaga hissed at Balance.

“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do this,” Balance replied. “I said I would _consider_ not doing this.”

“Balance.”

“Okay. I’m going.” Balance turned to walk down the hallway, but turned back once and hissed at Stinger, “I’m watching you.” Then Balance was gone.

Stinger’s hands were shaking as he reached out towards Naaga. Naaga just closed the distance between them, expression concerned. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Was he okay? That was not a question anyone should be asking him right now. His hands were tugging at Naaga’s t-shirt. Naaga seemed to know what he wanted to see, because he gently covered his hands with his own.

“Stinger, I’m fine,” he said softly. “I just need to rest.”

“I need to see it.”

“Stinger—“

“Please.”

Naaga dropped his hands, letting Stinger untuck the t-shirt and push the fabric up to the large bandage across his chest. He held the shirt out of the way with one hand and with the other, gently peeled back the bandage. The wound was already just an angry red line across his chest. The stitches had already done their work and dissolved.

“See? I’m fine,” Naaga reassured him as he pressed the bandage back into place. “It will hurt for a few days, but nothing is damaged.” A pause, and then, “Really, are you going to be okay?”

Then he realized that Naaga’s expression was nothing but pure relief. Gods, he had been so concerned with making sure that Naaga was going to be all right, he had completely forgotten his note. He told them about Antares and Naaga had spent the last few hours thinking _he_ was going to die. Fuck. Everything Balance accused him of was true. So why was Naaga relieved and not completely angry with him like Balance?

“Yes,” he said softly.

Naaga stepped closer. “You said—“

“I know. It was. I’d seen it happen to others when we fought Jark Matter. But Scorpio—“

“We saw. On the monitor.”

“Naaga.” He reached out, hands going to cup Naaga’s face. His thumbs stroked across his cheekbones. Naaga’s hands came up to rest on his arms. “I—“

“Don’t,” Naaga interrupted him. His eyes were bright with unshed tears. “I know we need to talk and apologize.” He paused, clearly searching for words. “We need to figure out where we go from here.” He shook his head, one tear falling. “But I don’t want to right now. I’m just… you’re here and going to be okay and I—“

“I know,” he replied, his hands falling to Naaga’s shoulders as he closed the small distance between them and pressed his lips to Naaga’s in a long, chaste kiss. Naaga’s hands went to grab the front of his jacket, kissing him back. 

When they broke apart, Stinger let his hands fall to Naaga’s waist. He searched Naaga’s face for clues, what he wanted to do now. Naaga sniffed a little, reaching up to wipe away the tears. Stinger had only ever seen Naaga in tears twice. Balance had said Naaga was stressed enough to throw up last night, and Stinger could only imagine the emotional breakdown that likely preceded and followed that. A pang of guilt shot through him to his stomach. _Selfish_. He inhaled deeply and quietly, reaching up to wipe away a tear that Naaga had missed.

“Okay,” Naaga said, taking a deep breath of his own. “Tonight I just want to eat dinner and shower and go to bed.”

Stinger didn’t know why, but he asked, “Didn’t you all already eat dinner?”

“At Champ’s party? That was party food. Not actual sustenance.” 

“Oh.” He paused, not wanting to ask the question, and then, “And tomorrow?”

Naaga sighed. “If we both feel better tomorrow, then I might yell at you and we can talk about this.” He took a breath. “But you look awful and everything kind of hurts when I breathe right now.”

“Are you sure you just don’t want to take pain meds and go to bed?”

“I’m hungry. And you probably haven’t eaten anything substantial in two days.”

When had Naaga gotten to know him so well? Stinger wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him close, embracing him tightly. Naaga’s hands rested on the back of his neck. Stinger inhaled deeply, just breathing in the scent of Naaga. He knew, knew that he and Naaga had too much to work through now, and all of that was squarely his fault. Naaga would likely let lots of things go, and Stinger didn’t really want him to. He didn’t want Naaga deciding that something was okay, when that particular item was anything but. He could already hear Naaga’s argument back. _I get to decide what’s okay and what’s not_. And Balance had even said Naaga wasn’t going to break up with him? Which likely meant that Naaga had been worried and confused. And this was Naaga, so he was going to ask a lot of questions to try and understand why Stinger did what he did. These conversations were going to take a while.

But tonight, Naaga clearly just wanted to be close. He was fine with that.

“Come on,” Naaga said, stepping out of the embrace and reaching down to take his hand, threading their fingers together. “Let’s go get dinner.”

He nodded, squeezing Naaga’s hand and allowing himself to be led up to the galley. Too many of the others already knew about them, and if the ones that didn’t saw them holding hands, who cared? One of his regrets before going to face his brother had been that he and Naaga never got to be anything other than secret lovers. Naaga would completely disagree with that assessment of their relationship. But neither of them wanted the others speculating, however, the ones that knew were already speculating, so who really fucking cared anymore at this point?

The hallways were quiet this late at night. Naaga was walking a little slower than usual. The galley seemed quiet from the hallway, which probably meant that Spada had just left out cold food that they could grab when they wanted. 

When they walked into the galley, he blinked, trying to figure out what was going on.

Spada was at the stove, finishing cooking something. Kotarou was standing at the counter, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he pressed decorations into a cake. Champ was finishing putting plates and silverware on the table. Naaga pressed a kiss to his temple, squeezing his hand reassuringly. 

Kotarou was the first to notice they’d walked in.

“Aniki!” he cried, running from the counter to them and throwing his arms around Stinger in a hug. He had to let go of Naaga’s hand to catch Kotarou and not have both of them end up on the floor from the momentum. He rested a hand on Kotarou’s head as the boy looked up from squeezing his waist and said happily, “Happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday, partner!” Champ added from the table. 

Spada turned, setting the food on the table and echoing the sentiment. “Kotarou,” he said, “Did you finish with the candles?”

Kotarou released Stinger and scampered back over to the counter.

Naaga’s hand was on the small of his back.

He blinked, trying to remember the date. A few weeks ago he’d had the thought that his birthday was coming up, but that had been the furthest thing from his mind lately. He remembered the date when he left Rebellion HQ and he tried to remember how much time had passed since then. His birthday was actually today. Birthdays were a passing thought on his home planet—he might have gotten a sweet roll, but little else. He had not even mentioned his birthday except to think about getting older in years.

But this? 

Naaga did not really understand why birthdays were something to celebrate, but since they had a party for everyone else on the ship (including the androids, whose birthdays got celebrated on their initial boot-up date), Naaga clearly wanted to make sure they included him. But he’d kept everything close and small—no ridiculous decorations on the bridge, no hats or poppers or nonsense, just some food, and the people closest to him on the ship. 

And now he understood why Naaga had insisted on dinner.

He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. 

Kotarou, clearly finished with the candles, came back and grabbed his hand, leading him over to the table. Kotarou placed him at the end of the table, and then took the seat next to him. Champ sat next to Kotarou. Naaga was on Stinger’s other side and Spada next to Naaga. Spada smiled a little sheepishly as he sat down, “They needed my help with the food, so I invited myself to stay.”

Stinger just shook his head. “It’s fine.” He paused, before saying haltingly, “I’ve never actually had a birthday party before.”

Kotarou’s mouth dropped open in horror.

“How do these usually go?” He directed the question at Kotarou.

Who was happy to reply, “Well, we’re going to eat dinner and then have cake—“

“Which I will explain when we get to it, but you’ll like it, I promise,” Spada interjected.

“—and then you open your presents!”

“Presents?”

Kotarou nodded, looking wildly excited. 

Naaga squeezed his knee under the table as they began to pass around the dinner food. Which was just chicken, brown rice and steamed vegetables. Also happened to be a meal that he really liked and that Spada had made for him on occasion when he wasn’t feeling well. Right after Champ… at Rebellion HQ… Maybe he was much more transparent than he thought. Champ didn’t need to eat and Kotarou took as few vegetables as he could get away with without Spada fussing at him. 

Dinner passed quickly. Champ was asking about what had happened since he and Stinger found Scorpio initially, and Kotarou was filling him in with his version of the events. (Which Spada gently corrected when Kotarou’s version started to stray from fact and into fiction resembling a comic book.) None of this made Stinger look very good, but Kotarou and Spada were being extremely generous with their representation of what had happened. 

When they were done eating and Kotarou had put all the dinner dishes in the cleaner (which was apparently his job, according to Spada), Champ brought the cake over and Spada lit the candles. “It’s carrot cake,” Spada explained. “Actually has carrots, pineapples and walnuts in it. We went light on the sugar so it’s more cinnamon than anything else. Cream cheese icing, but again, we cut down the sugar so it’ll be more tart.”

Gods, Stinger actually was going to cry now. Naaga knew he didn’t like sweets, and Spada picking this particular cake and modifying the recipe smacked of Naaga and him spending too much time trying to figure out how to make something Stinger would like, but still have a cake. He reached out, a hand on Naaga’s waist as he pressed a kiss to his temple. (Kotarou probably already knew about them anyways, and said nothing when witnessing that.)

They sang the ridiculous song and Stinger blew out the candles. 

And the cake actually was really good.

Now that he’d had dinner and cake, he was full and the exhaustion was hitting him harder than ever. He just wanted to crawl into bed with Naaga and sleep for ten or twelve hours. 

Once Kotarou put up all the cake dishes (Stinger was starting to suspect Kotarou had broken something of Spada’s, hence why doing the dishes now seemed to be Kotarou’s “job”), he bounced back to the table, crying, “Presents!”

Turned out the presents had been under the table the whole time.

Champ gave him a pocketknife with twelve different attachments. “Figured it’d be good if you’re in a tight situation,” he explained. The unspoken part being that Stinger always seemed to find himself in tight situation with a need to escape. 

Spada’s gift was a new pair of sneakers, identical to the ones he already had, just new and not threatening to disintegrate at any moment. Naaga would happily get rid of his old shoes now.

Kotarou gave him a pair of slippers, but someone had clearly helped him. (He suspected Naaga at work again.) The slippers were soft leather material (likely not real leather, but a good imitation) and looked like moccasins, lined with sheepskin. (Again, likely not real, but still soft and warm.) These were something he actually would use. He just patted Kotarou’s head and thanked him, while the kid looked pleased.

And for whatever reason, Kotarou seemed really excited about him opening Naaga’s gift. 

He unwrapped the stuffed animal, pausing for a moment. The thing was soft and squishy, and he vaguely recognized the animal as some sort of bird, black and white. As he loosely held the stuffed animal, he thought back to all the conversations he and Naaga had. Naaga always had a reason. And Naaga was always concerned about him not sleeping well or for long. Naaga had asked him once if he’d tried holding a pillow or something soft, and he’d just brushed away the idea. They each only had one pillow and using a blanket as a pillow did not work. So this thing had to be Naaga’s way of getting him to try that. Gods, the thing even smelled like Naaga. 

“To sleep better?” he just asked Naaga simply.

Naaga nodded. He felt a small smile tug at his lips. He pulled Naaga close, kissing him briefly. He wanted to hang on for more, but not in front of all the others. 

“What animal is it?” he asked.

Kotarou’s mouth was open in shock again. “Aniki, it’s a penguin.”

“A what?”

“You know. Birds that live in cold places. At least most of them. I don’t really remember, some might live in Africa or something. Anyways, they don’t fly. Eat fish.”

He blinked. “They’re birds that don’t fly?”

“Yeah, but they’re really cute. And funny!”

Stinger wasn’t sure how any of that was a selling point, but the stuffed animal was kind of cute. Naaga must have thought about this for a long time to settle on this thing, and there was no way he’d picked it out on his own, so someone must have helped. All of that just indicated how much care and attention he’d put into this. 

Balance was right. He did not deserve Naaga. 

“Okay,” Spada said. “It’s been a long day. Time for bed.” His pointed look at Kotarou meant he was saying that for the kid’s sake. Champ didn’t sleep and Spada didn’t actually care when anyone else decided to go to bed. Although _now_ was pretty much Stinger’s preference. 

Kotarou looked disappointed. He glanced to Stinger, who gave him the same look as Spada. Now with two people giving him the look, Kotarou just muttered, “Good night,” and hugged Stinger again on his way out the door. 

Stinger gathered up the presents, while Spada got rid of the wrapping paper. Champ was giving him an assessing look. When Stinger looked at him, he asked, “You going to be okay, partner?”

The other presents were in a bag. He held the stuffed animal against his chest. “I don’t know,” he finally answered. 

“In the end, your brother was on the side of justice.” Champ shrugged. “Just remember that. It’s got to count for something, right?”

_My birthday is now the day Aniki came back to me… and died_. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Just numb right now. “Yes,” he replied softly. 

Champ clapped his shoulder as he made his way out of the galley. “See you in the morning,” he said. “I’ve got a few more diagnostic things to run, but that won’t take long.” And Champ left the galley.

Spada said his goodnights and left as well.

Stinger and Naaga were alone once again. 

Naaga’s pain meds were clearly wearing off, because he was rubbing his chest and, in spite of wincing at the pain, he also had a small smile on his face. 

“What?” Stinger asked.

“That’s the first time we’ve ever… acted like a couple in front of anyone.”

The statement gave Stinger pause. “You’re right.” Three kisses during the evening. The first one had been Naaga when no one was really paying attention. The second and third had been deliberate and been him. He supposed he figured that Champ and Spada already knew, and neither would care. And if Kotarou didn’t know and felt like asking a question, he’d either answer or deflect. And Naaga seemed happy about it.

“I know you felt comfortable with everyone here.”

Naaga was justifying why now. Stinger reached out, a hand on his waist. “Do you want to be more overt in front of the others?”

A shrug. “Most of the others know. It’s getting ridiculous trying to keep it from the ones that don’t.” Naaga quickly added, “Not like some of the things I’ve seen. That’s just… embarrassing. But just being able to touch each other without worrying.”

“I know.” Stinger stepped into his space, kissing him briefly. “And the embarrassing stuff isn’t happening in front of the others. I’m not giving them anymore fuel than they already have.”

Naaga leaned in for another kiss. When they broke apart, his wince was worse. 

“You have the nighttime pain meds in your room?”

“They’re in your room, actually.”

“My room?”

Naaga nodded. “Balance told me to lay down earlier today and I didn’t want to go back to my room and there was no way an air mattress or the infirmary was going to work, so I just..” He trailed off.

“I know.” Stinger put the penguin in the bag with the other gifts and slung the bag over his shoulder. He got an arm around Naaga’s waist and one of Naaga’s arms over his shoulders. Naaga’s sigh of relief was small, but Stinger could feel him put some of his weight on him. 

Getting to his room took a little time because Naaga could not move very fast. The hallways were dark this time of night, only the emergency lighting on. The others had clearly gone to bed, because no one was in the halls. His room definitely looked like Naaga had been there—Naaga’s Seiza Blaster and Kyuutama were on the nightstand. He gently lowered Naaga onto the bed. Naaga gave out a soft grunt of pain at the change of position. 

When Stinger reached for the pain meds on the nightstand, Naaga shook his head. “I didn’t get to shower after the infirmary. I want to do that first.”

And Stinger hadn’t showered in at least two days, so this was a good idea. The showers were tight with two people, but Naaga clearly still needed help, so they’d manage. As he took off his Seiza Blaster and jacket, he started to wonder why anyone was getting close to him right now. He stripped off his scarf, shirt and undershirt, hoping he had clean clothes around here. (Knowing Naaga, he did.)

As he approached Naaga again, Naaga was frowning, eyes on the bruise just under his ribcage. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he said quickly, removing Naaga’s jacket from his shoulders. Using the same move Naaga had used on him once, he reached over Naaga’s shoulders and grabbed the back hem of the t-shirt, pulling the garment over his head and down his arms. Naaga didn’t make noise, but the pained expression did not get any better. He needed to make this and the shower go faster. He got down on the floor, removing Naaga’s shoes and socks. He toed out of his boots, removing his own socks, throwing all the clothing that came off with the laundry. 

Stinger leaned down, getting an arm around Naaga’s waist and helping him stand once more. “Lean on me as much as you need to,” Stinger said. “I’m going to get the rest of your clothes off, so all you have to do is step out of them.”

Naaga nodded. He unbuckled Naaga’s belt, and then undid his pants, pushing his pants and shorts to the ground. Naaga was a little shaky, but all his clothes were then off and with the laundry. Stinger peeled off the bandage and got rid of the old one. Naaga didn’t necessarily need a bandage anymore, but Stinger would put a fresh one on after the shower anyways. He finished taking off his own clothes and then went into the bathroom, starting the shower. He adjusted the water until he got a temperature that was good. He then went back into the room and got Naaga. 

Moving his arms was causing Naaga pain, so Stinger did most of the work in the shower. He got them both soaped up and scrubbed, and then washed Naaga’s hair and then his own. The hot water did not last for long in these showers, but they were done before the water started to grow tepid. He toweled Naaga off quickly, in spite of the token protests, and then dried himself. He then got Naaga into a clean pair of pajama pants. He pulled on his own sleep pants, and pulled the covers to the foot of the bed. He then sat Naaga down on the edge of the bed and re-bandaged his chest. In a few moments, Naaga was lying in bed completely, the covers pulled up to his waist. Stinger handed him the pain meds and some water, and he swallowed the pills down quickly. 

Stinger turned out the overhead lights, only leaving on the small lamp on the nightstand. The pain meds hadn’t knocked Naaga out yet, so he was watching him as he moved their jackets to the desk chair. He pulled out the gifts, putting the pocketknife in the nightstand drawer (which Naaga looked like he wanted to question, but was too tired.) He then put the new sneakers with the rest of their shoes and the slippers near Naaga’s under the bed. The bird, he tucked under one arm as he got into bed, and turned out the lamp. 

He did not want to admit that the stuffed animal felt really good pressed under one arm, soft and comforting. His other hand gently traced nonsense patterns on Naaga’s arm, until he heard Naaga’s breathing even out. 

Within minutes, he was asleep too.

\--------------------

The dream was… familiar. 

He’d been here before. He’d had this dream before.

Knowing he was dreaming did not make the situation better.

He was standing in a hallway, wearing nothing but pajama pants. He could have been plucked out of bed at that moment and put in that hallway. The bruise just under his ribcage still throbbed with pain. He put a hand on the spot. He smelled like soap. The tiny scratches and bruises from the last few days were vivid marks on his skin.

This hallway… for whatever reason, he knew he was in their house—his and Naaga’s house. The entire world felt muffled, until the sounds sharply began to come into focus. He could hear the wind outside. He could hear someone moving in a bedroom, just the rustling of bed sheets. He had just left the bedroom with the open door, soft light from a lamp spilling into the hallway. He’d been in bed with Naaga, so Naaga was the one moving in that room.

Then he heard the baby crying.

He couldn’t stop the stuttering gasp that came out of him.

This… these dreams… this one didn’t end well. But the dreams from before… before this dream, those were the dreams he wanted to live in again. Before Scorpio saved him, he’d tried desperately to hang onto those dreams. Those dreams were the future he had no idea he wanted. And then Scorpio and the Morimazuu fleet and the Argo ship and Houou Soldier… and the dreams quickly became distant and fuzzy memories, pieces he wouldn’t be able to recall later. But standing in this hallway, those dreams came tumbling back to him in sharp focus. 

The baby. Their baby. Their daughter.

The crying continued, the infant screaming with all her heart.

But he couldn’t move.

He knew how this dream ended.

Blood. Blood and death.

The infant’s cries were starting to sound distressed, like she was truly scared. He thought Naaga was still in the bedroom, but he was no longer sure. Fuck. He had to make a decision. He couldn’t stand in this hallway. If nothing happened, he felt like he’d never be able to wake up, stuck there between the baby’s cries and wondering what happened to Naaga. 

He walked down the hallway to the baby’s room.

Opening the door, he paused.

Everything looked normal. This wasn’t right. 

He stepped into the room. A drop of blood ran down one of the slats of the crib. He inhaled slowly, taking another step forward. More blood appeared on the crib. The closer he got to the crib, the more the crib resembled what he thought—just pools of blood with no baby. He reached the crib and looked inside. Just bloody blankets and sheets. No actual baby. 

Gods, he knew what awaited him back in their bedroom and he couldn’t. He couldn’t go see that again. They were both okay. Naaga was fine. Scorpio did not kill Naaga. In fact, if he could wake up, Naaga was in bed beside him. No. He couldn’t do this. Why was he living this dream again?

“Stinger?”

He jerked awake. He was awake. Actually awake.

He blinked.

Naaga was leaning up a little, hand on his shoulder, probably to shake him awake. “You were muttering my name in your sleep,” Naaga was saying, but his voice soundly like it was coming from far away, badly tuned. “What’s wrong?”

The room… the bed… everything felt too close, pressing down on his chest. 

Scrambling, he pushed the covers off him and stumbled out of bed.

Naaga might have said his name again, but there was a roaring in his ears.

Air. He needed air. Everything was too close.

He wasn’t really walking, kind of stumbling, chest too tight, struggling to get a breath.

He made it into the hallway and a few steps down, before he stumbled against the wall, lost his footing and slid to the floor. Why couldn’t he breathe? He couldn’t breathe. His hands went over his ears, trying to stop the roaring noise. He could hear himself audibly gasping.

“Stinger.”

Abruptly, everything came back into focus.

Naaga was kneeling in front of him, wrapping something around his shoulders. 

“Stinger,” Naaga said again. “You need to breathe.”

He couldn’t.

Naaga grasped his hands, moving them down from his head. He was deliberately taking exaggerated breaths. 

“Stinger,” he was saying. “Come on. Take a deep breath. You can do this.”

A beat. And then he tried to copy Naaga.

“That’s good,” Naaga continued. 

And then he was actually able to take a deep breath and then exhale.

The hallway was dark and quiet, just him and Naaga. He belatedly realized that Naaga had wrapped his sweater around his shoulders. Naaga was wearing his hoodie, partially zipped up, the bandage visible. 

“Stinger?”

“I’m okay.” His voice sounded hoarse, scratchy. 

Naaga stood up, only wincing a little, and then reached down to help Stinger to his feet. He stood up, swaying a little, but corrected easily. Naaga took his hand. “Let’s go back to bed.” He started to walk towards Stinger’s room, but Stinger pulled back a little, shaking his head. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I can’t. It’s too—“ He had no words to describe what he felt.

Naaga nodded, expression concerned. “Okay. We could go to the rec room for a while.”

Stinger agreed, allowing Naaga to lead him down the hallway to the small rec room at the end of the hall. Cards were all over one of the tables. An art project spilled over one of the chairs. Naaga led him to one of the couches, and he all but collapsed into the cushions. Naaga sat down next to him. As he moved to actually put his arms through the sweater, he realized his stuffed bird was in his lap. He’d been subconsciously clutching that thing the whole time?

“Was it a nightmare?” Naaga asked softly. He reached out, smoothing Stinger’s hair away from his forehead, out of his eyes. 

He nodded. “I’ve had the dream before.”

“What happens?”

He just shook his head. Their legs were pressed together. Naaga’s fingers were still in his hair, not smoothing back anymore, just moving, comforting. They were quiet for a few moments. The rec room was dimly lit, but bigger than the living quarters. Nothing here was charged with memories. 

Then a blanket got thrown over his head.

“Moo! You two sure are noisy.”

Champ.

Stinger pulled the blanket off his head, letting it pool in his lap. Champ handed their slippers to Naaga. “You two forgot your fuzzy shoes,” Champ continued. “I know how you organic lifeforms catch cold when you forget your shoes.”

Stinger couldn’t quite prevent the smile from quirking his lips. Champ definitely had odd ideas about what organic beings did and did not need. Even though they’d been on the surface in the late spring and summer, and Champ should have been more worried about Stinger overheating or getting dehydrated, he actually always seemed concerned that Stinger would be cold. Good to know that Champ was still worried about them getting cold.

And now that he thought about it… “How’d you get into my room?”

Champ huffed. “I’ve always been able to get into any room on this ship.”

Stinger blinked.

“Oh don’t give me that look,” Champ replied, waving away his concern. “I don’t exercise that ability around here. I just heard you two come down here and didn’t want you catching cold.” Champ gave him a long look. “You’re supposed to say thank you now.”

“Thank you?”

“You’re welcome.”

And then Spada walked into the rec room, holding two mugs. “I was up getting some tea and heard you two down here and thought you might like some too.”

This was getting even more ridiculous than his very brief appearance at Champ’s party.

“It’s the tea he actually likes,” Spada said in an undertone to Naaga as he put the mugs on the low table in front of the couch. 

“Why are you awake?” Stinger asked, unable to prevent the question.

“I told you. I was making tea.”

“It’s two in the morning.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Spada just smiled. “Stinger, the things you don’t know about me could fill a book.” That was probably true. “See you all in the morning!” And then Spada was gone as quickly as he appeared.

Champ patted his head. He looked at the slippers still in Naaga’s hands and then at them. They both put on their slippers quickly. Gods, these were soft… and warm. Champ huffed in approval, apparently satisfied that they were warm enough with their slippers and the blanket.

“We’re all in this together,” Champ said. “Remember that.”

“I know,” Stinger replied softly.

“I’m done with the diagnostics, so just shout if you need anything.” Champ left the rec room.

Naaga picked up the mugs of tea, handing him one. Naaga rested his free hand on his thigh. “You don’t have to talk about the nightmare if you don’t want to,” he said softly.

Stinger turned to look at him. Hell, Naaga looked awful, pale, drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. Some of that was the injury to his chest. More of that was his recent stress level. Both were because Stinger couldn’t keep a level head about his brother. He knew that the bloody visions in his nightmares were a result of the additional venom and his own fears. But the dreams before, when just his own venom had been running through his veins, those were the ones that he wanted to remember.

“It’s not the dreams I wanted to have again,” he finally replied.

Naaga didn’t say anything, just slightly quirked an eyebrow, in a move so subtle Stinger might have missed it otherwise. Naaga was leaning a shoulder against the couch cushions, facing him, one hand holding the tea and taking small sips, the other on his thigh, anchoring and grounding him. His expression was open and neutral—he’d listen, but didn’t expect Stinger to say anything.

He drank some of the tea, just to give himself a moment, before saying, “When Aniki had me on the Morimazuu, I was in and out of consciousness, having dreams about us.”

“What kind of dreams about us?” No judgment, just a question.

“Nothing specific. Just… a future I was making up.”

Naaga squeezed his thigh gently, small smile on his lips. “What were we like?”

“Good. Really good.” He huffed a small, almost self-deprecating laugh. “We got married, got a house somewhere, adopted a baby.”

Naaga’s expression was unreadable. Stinger felt a pang of anxiety shoot through him. Had he said something wrong? “That’s the future you pictured?” he finally asked softly.

“Yes.”

Then Naaga smiled and leaned forward to press a long, chaste kiss to his lips. 

When they broke apart, Naaga just said, “I know we’re a long way off from anything like that and we don’t know what is going to happen with Jark Matter now, but that sounds… perfect… after all this.”

“I can’t imagine adopting a kid and not being a terrible parent.”

“You’d be a good parent. You’re good with Kotarou.” Naaga shrugged. “I can’t imagine raising a child without all the structure on my home planet.”

“We’d figure it out. In the dream, we managed to fix up a house.”

“That seems more realistic.”

“Are you saying we couldn’t raise a child?” Stinger asked, tone light, teasing.

“Not at all. Just that we’d have more of a learning curve.”

Naaga smiled again and Stinger found himself returning the smile. “I think I might have picked the color for the baby’s room, because the walls were orange.”

Naaga frowned. “That’s not a good color for sleep.”

“It was lighter, soft. Not neon.”

“Still.” Naaga nudged him a little. “Was the baby a boy or a girl?”

“A girl.”

“What was her name?”

“I don’t know. I think we named her after a constellation, but I never remembered her name.”

Naaga was quiet for a long moment, studying him. Gods, Scorpio had even said he wouldn’t let him die because he had people to protect. And he was so stupid, realizing so late that he really did care about the others and that they cared about him. They would have gone with him from the beginning. He didn’t need Antares or any last ditch effort to stop his brother himself. Champ saved his life because Champ knew that he had friends that would fight for him. Any of the others would have gone with him at any time. Naaga, Champ and Kotarou wouldn’t even have asked any questions.

He wanted to hang on to the dreams, because those reminded him of the future he’d envisioned before actually finding his brother. Dreams like that were the reason he made their rings, left Naaga a note about his feelings (even if the note had caused some upset.) Since Scorpio and Champ, he was hard-pressed to remember the hopeful feelings, remembering how swiftly and deeply he’d fallen in love with Naaga, how he hadn’t thought he could love someone as much as he loved Naaga. He hadn’t really thought himself capable of love. 

There had been too many betrayals for Naaga to be here with him.

And yet, he always underestimated Naaga’s tenacity. 

This entire time, Naaga had just wanted him to come back.

And here they were, with a second chance.

He hoped to every god he could think of that he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Naaga asked softly.

“Yes,” he replied. “Because I’m not alone.”

Naaga raised his hand, fingers stroking through his hair again. “Let’s go back to bed.”

They put the tea mugs back in the galley, and then went back to Stinger’s room. Stinger loosely held the blanket and his bird stuffed animal. He had no idea where the blanket came from, but since Champ had dumped the thing on his head, literally, he was hanging on to it.

In his room after they shed their slippers and the hoodie and sweater, he just said, “It’s time for more of the nighttime meds, isn’t it?”

“It’s better,” Naaga replied. “I just need one of the daytime doses.”

“Naaga.”

“It will be okay.”

“Naaga.”

Naaga looked away and then back at him, determined. “The nighttime meds knock me out, and I want to be able to wake up in case you need me.”

_In case you need me._

Stinger’s chest felt tight. He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Okay,” he relented. Naaga took one of the milder painkillers, and they crawled back into bed. He’d thought after the nightmare, he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep, but between the extra warmth from the blanket, and the bird cushioned under one arm, and Naaga’s deep, even breathing, he was asleep in minutes. 

\--------------------

The next morning, Naaga blinked awake to the sound of the message chime on his Seiza Blaster. Stinger wasn’t wrapped around him, just pressed to his side, the penguin wedged between their bodies. He was still asleep, breathing evenly. Naaga’s chest felt sore, but no more of the searing pain from yesterday. As quietly as possible, he climbed over Stinger and out of bed. Surprisingly, Stinger did not wake up to the movement. Naaga pulled the covers up to his shoulders, and he just rolled into the spot Naaga just vacated, one arm under the pillow and the other around the penguin.

He checked the message.

Spada. _Breakfast is outside the door._

Which breakfast was.

He brought the containers into the room and set them on the nightstand. Through the transparent lids, he could see that the breakfast was food Stinger liked—scrambled eggs, bacon, fruit and toast. There was also coffee and tea. 

Naaga thought about checking the schedule, but decided, if Stinger was still sleeping at this hour of the morning and slept through Naaga moving around, he needed the rest more than he needed to be wherever he was assigned. 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out and gently smoothing Stinger’s hair out of his eyes. Stinger rolled over, leaning into the touch.

“Stinger?” he said softly.

A vaguely unhappy noise came out of him.

“You want to eat breakfast?”

“No.”

Stinger actually wanted to stay in bed and not get up? Naaga put his palm against Stinger’s forehead, and then felt his cheeks and the back of his neck. Was he getting sick after everything that had happened? But his skin just felt sleep-warm. He wasn’t running a fever.

“’M not sick,” he mumbled. 

“I know.”

Stinger pressed closer to him, clearly still half-asleep. “You smell good,” he murmured.

Maybe now was the time to get clarification on something, before Stinger woke up completely and could deflect.

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you really make all the dolls of us to keep Champ company or did Kotarou exaggerate that?”

“Kotarou couldn’t do that.”

“So you made them?”

A sleepy nod.

“I didn’t know you could sew.”

Stinger yawned. “Fabric, skin, same damn thing.” He let out a breath. Naaga knew he was talking about the medical parts of his military training. “Why else do you think my clothes have lasted as long as they have?”

Good point.

Stinger shook himself, yawning again and then looked up at Naaga. He was fully awake now. “What were we talking about?” he asked.

“Breakfast.”

Stinger pushed himself into a sitting position, rubbing his eyes. Naaga handed him one of the containers of food. “Did you check the schedule?” he asked, another yawn.

“No.” He paused. “And I’m not going to.”

“Good, because we’re going back to bed after breakfast.”

Naaga smiled.

Maybe there was hope for them after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end of an era! But maybe some time for some fluffier times, yes? (I have muchly enjoyed Yuki Kubota as Scorpio. And yet, Tsurugi uses fire to cut his hair and get rid of his weird furry jacket. I am shocked and intrigued. Lol.) (Another aside, yes, Yosuke Kishi is going to be the death of me.) :D
> 
> Yet again, I am humbled and awed by my awesome, awesome readers! Thank you for kudos-ing, commenting and, most importantly, reading! As I said in one of the comments, we're almost to the halfway point in the show and I made it this far. I'm hoping to continue. Might need to slow down a little, but still keeping 'em coming! Drop me a note once in a while and let me know you're out there!
> 
> My understanding is that Kyuuranger is being preempted for tennis next week? (Is this Golf Part 2: Lost Chains or something?) This fic probably won't be preempted though. Good stopping point for... stuff. :D Peace out, y'all, and stay tuned!


	14. Lay Me Out in Firelight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything about this trip was an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since we don't get a new episode today (well, for me, technically last night), how about a chapter of this fic? :) Still set after episode 21, imagining a bit of a pause here. Fluff, anyone? Enjoy!
> 
> PS: Also, not a doctor. Remember the fine arts degree? Please take any inaccuracies with a huge grain of salt.

**14/ Lay Me Out in Firelight**   
_Lay me out in firelight, let my skin feel the night. Fasten me to your side and say it’ll be soon._

Everything about this trip was an apology.

Naaga had been trying to understand why Stinger went off alone and why his brother’s death seemed to spark such a change in him. Stinger had said that he realized too late that he wasn’t alone and had friends, people to protect, but had not wanted any of them involved. He’d said as much to Naaga before. But how were they supposed to move past the fact that Stinger had been more than willing to end his own life to defeat his brother? Balance had said some things go deeper. They’d been together for a few months? Stinger had years of wondering why his brother betrayed him—and their people—to Jark Matter, and an entire childhood and adolescence of being raised by his brother. Logically, Naaga knew this was not about him or their relationship, but about things much older. He wished Stinger had reached out to them, but nothing would have stopped Stinger from thinking that his brother was his problem and his alone. 

Stinger did what he did out of a sense of obligation, a sense of guilt. Because Stinger was so convinced that Scorpio was his fault, there was no stopping him in his mission to stop his brother, to get answers. Naaga had made peace with the fact that he didn’t have to like what Stinger did, but he was going to constantly remind Stinger that he had friends—a family. He could mourn for losing Scorpio and feel hope that his brother had saved him in the end. Stinger had spent his entire life believing his brother gained strength to protect him, because he was weak. Naaga had lost count of how many times he’d reminded Stinger that he had just been a child—children weren’t supposed to be strong. His brother was power-hungry and Stinger did nothing to make him that way. He just was. 

And Stinger was so fragile, more so than he would ever show to world, even to Naaga. He expected things to fall apart before they even began. He had expected Naaga to break up with him. And despite him thinking that everything would fail, he’d immediately clung to any small sliver of hope that things were not over between them. Naaga had never said anything to make him think that, but the doubts were still there, casting a shadow over everything. Stinger loved him so much, but also hated himself because he thought Naaga deserved better than him. 

_I get to decide that._

The small cabin was in the mountains. Four rooms—a kitchen with a center island that served as a table and work space, a living room, a bedroom and a large bathroom. The cabin was close to a lake, not close enough to walk out the door and into the water, but enough that there was a fantastic view of the water from the porch. Like the waterfall camping spot Naaga had discovered, this place was in a rural area, outside of Jark Matter control and not a place they had mined for resources. A couple in the small town several kilometers away owned the cabin and rented the place out. They had been more than happy to let Kyuurangers use the cabin for the weekend. 

Last night, they had gotten to the cabin late, unpacked the groceries, eaten a late dinner and simply gone to bed. This bed was way bigger than the space Naaga was used to sharing with Stinger. He felt like they could practically lose one another in this bed, there was so much room. After they’d gotten under the blankets, Stinger had moved close to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him so they were completely back to chest. Stinger’s tail ended up slung over his waist as his hand went to thread his fingers through his own. Naaga just relaxed into the warmth of his body, glad they were close. 

That morning, they’d eaten breakfast, mostly quiet, both lost in their own thoughts. 

Naaga was currently perched on one end of the couch, legs pulled to his chest, staring off at a spot in the distance, seeing but not seeing, turning over recent events in his mind. They were Kyuurangers, which meant they were all in danger. Doing dangerous thing was part of their job, and their willingness to do so was part of why the Kyuutamas chose them. Stinger had always been reckless about his brother and the Commander had allowed that recklessness for a long time. Sending Stinger to Rebellion HQ with Champ, alone, had been the wrong decision. Stinger would never admit it, but he was more grounded around all the others, less hopeless. As much as he knew that Stinger was finally finding some closure about his brother, he also knew that Stinger cared desperately about defeating Jark Matter, cared about him, about the others. And they now had no idea what was coming, with Houou Soldier and defeating the Morimazuu fleet on Earth. 

“Hey,” Stinger said softly, coming to sit next to him on the couch. He handed him a mug of tea—raspberry orange green tea. Naaga accepted the tea with a small smile. Stinger was still drinking coffee. He pressed a kiss to Naaga’s temple. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, voice low.

“You, mostly,” Naaga replied.

A dark cloud seemed to pass over Stinger’s expression briefly. Naaga closed the small space between them and pressed a long, chaste kiss to his lips, soothing him. 

“It’s not bad,” he said softly when they broke apart. “I’m just worried about you.”

Stinger let out a long breath. 

“Don’t apologize,” Naaga preempted him. “I know you feel guilty about all of this.” He nudged him a little. “You haven’t made promises you can’t keep.”

“Everything I said about a future, the dreams, I meant that,” Stinger replied, voice a little shaky. “Right now, it just feels so, so far away, and like we’ll have to go through hell to get there.”

“We’re not giving up. We’ll get there.”

Stinger’s eyes were on him. “You really believe that?”

Naaga shrugged. “Why would I not? We’re stronger than we know. The Kyuutamas chose us, remember?” He sipped the tea, which was at a warm, drinkable temperature. Brewed strongly, no sugar or milk, just a little bit of honey. Stinger knew him well. 

“What did you want to do today?” Stinger asked, taking another drink of coffee. 

“Have sex.”

Which caused Stinger to swallow the coffee oddly and start coughing. 

Naaga unfolded his legs, plucked the mug out of Stinger’s hand and set it on the low table in front of the couch. He put his own tea there as well, turning to rub Stinger’s back as the coughing died down. 

“You act like we’ve never had sex before,” Naaga muttered.

“You’ve never been that blunt before,” Stinger shot back. 

“Maybe I should be.”

Stinger gave him a withering look, but the look was ruined by the fact that his eyes were still a little watery and cheeks slightly pink from coughing. “Don’t imply that I don’t get the hint when you want to have sex.”

“What about last night?”

“What about it? You did absolutely nothing to indicate you wanted sex last night.”

Naaga shrugged. “We have all day to make up for it.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them making a move to kiss again or get any closer on the couch. The tension was high, and Naaga could feel his heart pounding. Why would he be nervous about something they’d done lots of times before? He was even the one that said he wanted this. And he did. The others knowing about them made their nights on the ship feel awkward. They mostly slept in Stinger’s room, at Garou’s request, but still, knowing the others might be speculating or idly wondering made everything too _weird_. Neither one of them had actually been ready for everyone to know. (Except for Shou Lonpou and Raptor—they were still out of the loop.) So now they were thinking too much and didn’t get much beyond kissing.

Stinger reached out, brushing the hair away from his face. “Let’s go down to the lake for a while,” he suggested. “There’s a dock down there. Maybe go in the water, see where it takes us.”

Naaga nodded in agreement.

They quickly changed into swim trunks and grabbed a towel to head down to the lake. Naaga had an old pair of flip flops, gotten back when he and Balance had been roaming as thieves. Seemed a prudent thing to have in sketchy showers, campsites and unfamiliar beaches. Stinger was barefoot—he only owned three pairs of shoes, and one of those was a pair of slippers that did not leave his room back on the ship. The dock was short distance from the porch. 

The day was sunny and clear, not a cloud in the sky. Perfect early summer weather. Warm, with a slight breeze.

They sat on the dock, a few chairs out there already. Naaga was on the end of a small chaise piece, sitting between Stinger’s legs. Stinger’s fingers worked his skin, finding tension and sore muscles and soothing them out. Naaga’s head dropped as he relaxed into the massage. He always forgot how good Stinger was at this, how relaxed he felt, how he just turned to putty in Stinger’s hands. They were quiet as Stinger continued down his back, the sun warming their skin. 

Stinger pulled Naaga back against his chest and he went easily. One of Stinger’s arms was around his waist, and Stinger pressed kisses from his temple to his shoulder. Naaga made a pleased noise, one hand going to brush Stinger’s hair and then dropping. Stinger still looked a little tentative, a little unsure. But he’d been right—they would be intimate this weekend, but needed to ease into things, see what would come naturally. They’d been putting too much pressure on themselves. 

Naaga stood up. He glanced over his shoulder at Stinger. “Coming?” he asked, and then jumped off the dock into the lake. 

The water was cool and clear, a welcome contrast to the heat of the sun. When he came up to the surface, he saw Stinger standing at the end of the dock, a small smile on his face. 

_Finally_.

“Well?” he prompted.

The water was only about shoulder-height. Stinger jumped easily into the water near him. Naaga blinked at the small splash, smile spreading across his face as Stinger surfaced, shaking his hair out of his face. Stinger crossed the small distance to him, feet finding solid footing on the lake floor (soft mud and rounded rocks). Naaga smiled more as Stinger got an arm around his waist, pulling him close so their bodies were flush. His other hands threaded through Naaga’s hair, angling him for a deep kiss. Stinger’s tongue ran along his and then plundered his mouth, tasting him completely. Naaga’s hands were on his shoulders as he pushed back in the kiss, getting to taste Stinger. They broke apart briefly, Stinger’s forehead resting against his. Stinger tasted like black coffee, but also something that Naaga always had a hard time identifying, like scorching wind over a desert, overpowering, seductive. 

He felt flushed, heart beating wildly in his chest. 

Stinger kissed him again, with a fervor and passion that made him feel shaky. This kiss was hot, promising so much more. Stinger’s fingers on his back, dipped slightly into the waistband of his shorts. He gasped when they paused to breath, the gasp hitching in his throat as Stinger kissed him again. He hummed into the kiss.

When Stinger pulled back, gently pushing his wet hair away from his eyes, Naaga blinked, just a little disoriented, wanting to chase Stinger’s lips. 

“I’ve got an idea for something we can try,” he said softly, voice low and husky. 

Naaga made a noise of affirmation, hands on his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“We brought some fruit with us. Some of it is pretty juicy. Be good to lick off—“

He never finished the sentence, because Naaga made an incomprehensible noise, body shaking hard at the idea. He drew in a ragged breath as Stinger smiled, kissing him softly, soothing. One of Stinger’s hand gently rubbed his side under the water. Stinger kissed him again.

“I take it you like that idea,” Stinger continued.

Naaga nodded. “I don’t even know why.”

Stinger pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to his jaw and then on his neck. “Because it can be sensual,” he said, another kiss going to his collarbone. He pressed a kiss to his shoulder, eyes moving up to meet his gaze. “Different.”

Naaga didn’t have a reply. He had never even considered doing something like that. He had tried to do research on what to expect when their relationship turned physical and had pretty much been convinced that, outside of other positions, they’d hit the basics. Just the idea of licking something off Stinger’s skin or having something on his skin—the contrast of the cool sticky juice over heated skin, the sweetness mixed with the salt of sweat—physical reactions to words or thoughts were relatively rare for him, so for the mere suggestion to get him semi-hard and gasping for air… 

Stinger continued the kiss, plundering his mouth and he struggled to keep up, making a desperate, mewling noise into the kiss. They’d been outside for a while, but not in the water long, and Naaga found that he didn’t care. He wanted to go back to the cabin, and didn’t even care if Stinger’s latest suggestion happened. He just wanted Stinger close, to keep on kissing him like this. 

“Let’s go inside,” he said breathlessly as they paused to breathe. 

Stinger smiled a little, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He nodded and turned to wade the small distance to the dock, easily hoisting himself onto the wooden platform. Naaga followed suit, a little surprised with how easily he got himself up and onto the platform. (Physical fitness was always a part of life on his home planet, but upper body strength was only cultivated by a few. He’d clearly surpassed that since becoming a thief and then a Kyuuranger.) Stinger toweled off quickly and tossed him the towel. He followed suit, slipping back into his flip flops and following Stinger back to the cabin. 

Once back at the cabin, he kicked his shoes off inside the door, watching as Stinger got a small bowl of cut-up fruit from the fridge. He took Naaga’s hand, leading him into the bedroom. They hadn’t really made the bed that morning, the blankets and sheets pushed to the foot of the bed. He set the bowl on the nightstand, and then got a hand on Naaga’s waist, pulling him close.

“I don’t think we need the damp clothes anymore,” Stinger said, voice low. Naaga shivered, hard, as Stinger’s hands went to the waistband of his shorts, untying the drawstring and pushing them down and off. Naaga got the idea and kicked the damp garment into the bathroom. He was still semi-hard from their conversation in the lake. Stinger appeared to be in the same state, which was confirmed when he stripped off his own shorts. 

Stinger backed him towards the bed, until he lost leverage and sat down on the edge, backing up further when Stinger stayed in his space. Stinger got a knee on the bed, between his legs, one hand reaching out to thread through his hair and the other hand on his chest. He gently pushed, and Naaga backed all the way onto the bed, then Stinger pushed him down into the mattress, body pressing down over his, meeting him for a hot, open-mouthed kiss. He moaned into the kiss, hands on Stinger’s back, pulling him as close as possible. His whole body felt flushed and he shivered again, feeling the heat completely pool in his stomach as he got completely hard. 

_Yes_. This, _this_ , is what he wanted.

Stinger’s lips left his for a moment as he reached to the nightstand, grabbing two pieces of fruit from the bowl. A strawberry and a piece of mango. He couldn’t remember having a strawberry before, despite knowing what the fruit was. 

The mango was dripping with juice still, and the cold juice dripped onto his chest. Naaga gasped at the change of sensation. Stinger mouth went to his chest, licking the juice away. Naaga moaned, fingers threading through Stinger’s hair, hips moving involuntarily. More of the cold juice on his skin, this time directly on a nipple. Naaga’s fingers tightened in Stinger’s hair, as his hot mouth took care of the stickiness, pausing to suck at his nipple. Naaga cried out, hips grinding against Stinger’s thigh. 

Stinger moved up to kiss him again, and he opened eagerly, tasting the mango in Stinger’s mouth and wanting to press closer. He took the strawberry from Stinger, biting into the berry, loving the tastes on one another. The strawberry was sweet, perhaps a little sweeter than he cared for, but that didn’t matter as he swallowed the fruit and pulled Stinger down to kiss him. Stinger made a pleased noise into the kiss, licking into his mouth and kissing him soundly. 

When Stinger pulled back a little, his expression changed from pleased and a little predatory into worry. What would he have to be worried about? Stinger took the strawberry from him and put all the fruit back in the bowl, backing up on the bed and leaning back on his heels. 

“Have you eaten a strawberry before?” he asked.

Naaga blinked. “I don’t think so.”

“I know you’ve eaten mango before.” He swore softly, and then, “Are you having trouble breathing?”

“Breathing? No. I’m fine. Stinger, what—“

Then he noticed the hives that had begun to form on his skin. Seemed like just his chest, but they were spreading pretty quickly, angry red welts. He took a deep breath.

“The first aid kit is in your bag,” Stinger said, but it wasn’t a question. He left the bed and went to Naaga’s pack on the bench at the foot of the bed. He easily pulled out the small first aid kit and opened the zip-pack. He located the small supply of oral antihistamines and brought two back to the bed. He grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand (left there the night before.) 

His eyes looked wild with worry, but he was outwardly calm. Naaga didn’t know what to do about the hives or the apparent allergic reaction, but Stinger clearly did. And the fact that Stinger seemed to know what to do prevented him from being more concerned. He took another deep breath.

“Seriously?” Stinger confirmed. “No trouble breathing? Itchy mouth? Throat closing?” He ticked through the list of symptoms as though he had them memorized and had heard them many times before.

Naaga took another deep breath, just to be sure, trying to objectively analyze how he felt. No, in spite of a little psychosomatic reaction to hearing the other symptoms, his reaction really seemed to be limited to the hives. But had happened really fast. 

Stinger just gently put the pills in his mouth and gave him the water to swallow them down.

“We have epinephrine, but I don’t want to give you that unless you start having trouble breathing. We caught it early. Hopefully the antihistamine will do the trick.”

Naaga back up in the bed, pulling the sheet into his lap. He felt hot, but not from what they had just been doing. The hives were rapidly growing itchy and uncomfortable. The medication would take a little while to start working and he was not sure of the entire extent of the hives and not sure he wanted to know. Allergies did not exist on his home planet.

Stinger got up and quickly pulled on his shorts from earlier that morning. He got the fruit bowl and left the room, ostensibly taking it back to the kitchen. Or outside. He had no idea how Stinger was going to react to having something around Naaga was clearly allergic to. He heard water running in the kitchen briefly and Stinger came back into the room. 

“Is this normal?” Naaga asked, wanting to talk and distract himself. He had a feeling that scratching at the hives was going to make the situation worse. 

“It’s one of the symptoms you can have during an allergic reaction,” Stinger replied carefully. He sat down on the edge of the bed.

“How do you know so much about it?”

“Since I’m from a limited resources planet, Rebellion doctors were pretty much convinced I was going to run into something I’ve never been exposed to before and could potentially have a reaction. I got the detailed run-down on which symptoms to look for, which ones were more severe, and how each first aid kit has stuff to treat allergies.” He shrugged. “They finally ran an actual allergy panel on me and I’m not allergic to anything they know of.” He paused, frowning. “They must have relaxed doing that when more Kyuurangers appeared.”

Naaga winced, shaking his arm. “I went through a medical exam, but they never said anything about looking for allergies or testing for them.” The medical exams were how they both knew they were clear of any disease, since screening for all kinds of things was standard practice. That information had helped inform the choices they made in bed. 

“Maybe they figured you were away from your home planet for long enough to have run into something.”

“You had been away from your home planet for a while before they found you.” Naaga paused. “They know people from the Ophiuchus System are pretty much genetically engineered from birth. Maybe they didn’t think we’d be designed that way.”

“If there’s nothing to be allergic to in your environment, then there’s no reason to filter that out.” Stinger rolled his eyes, betraying easily what he thought of Rebellion overlooking that. 

“I’m glad you know about it,” Naaga said softly.

Stinger was studying his skin critically. “Can you let me see the extent?” he asked softly, fingers on the sheet, but not moving the linen yet. Naaga nodded. Stinger gently pulled the sheet away from him, eyes examining the extent of the hives, which seemed to be down his legs as well as his chest and arms. “The swelling is going down,” Stinger said, “But it might take some time for them to completely go away.”

“It’s itchy,” Naaga replied, wrinkling his nose.

“You can take another half-dose of the antihistamine soon,” Stinger said, getting up from the bed. “I’ll run you a bath. That will help with some of the itching.” He paused, then added, “The antihistamine might make you sleepy. That’s the drawback to those—at least the effective ones.”

Stinger walked into the bathroom, turning on the low lights in the room. They hadn’t really fully explored the whole cabin last night, but there had been some items in the bathroom, amenities like bath salts and lotion. He could hear the bath water turn on, and Stinger had clearly found something that would work, because he came into the bedroom and just said, “They had oatmeal.”

Naaga assumed he meant oatmeal powder for the bath.

Stinger held out a hand and helped him off the bed. Naaga just leaned on him because he could, not because he really needed to. The bath water was milky and the tub was partially full. Naaga just stepped into the warm water and sank down. The tub was large—not quite as large as the ones back on the ship, but definitely still plenty of space for two people. When the water was up to his chest, Stinger turned off the faucet and Naaga adjusted himself down a little further. The powder felt amazing against his irritated skin and he closed his eyes, letting the warmth spread and sooth the itchiness. 

He felt Stinger press a kiss to his forehead and heard him leave the bathroom. 

He must have dozed off at some point, because he opened his eyes to Stinger’s fingers running through his hair. Stinger was perched on the edge of the tub, not in the water with him, but as close as he could be without just getting in. 

The only noise that came out of him was a, “Hmm?” He felt really tired.

“Get your hair wet,” Stinger requested softly. Naaga shifted down in the water, ducking his head under for a moment and coming up, pushing the wet hair out of his eyes. “Lean back,” Stinger continued, fingers back in his hair. 

He almost missed the bottle of shampoo. Stinger squeezed a small amount into his hand and then worked the shampoo into his hair, fingers gently massaging his scalp. He made a pleased noise, eyes closing. Stinger’s fingers felt amazing, soothing away any tension. After a few minutes, Stinger gently pushed him back under the water so he could rinse the soap out of his hair. He came back up, wiping the water out of his eyes and pushing his hair back. 

Stinger got up, grabbing a towel. “Come on,” he said, voice warm. “You don’t want to sleep here.”

Naaga was exhausted enough that he just nodded and stood up, accepting the towel from Stinger. Stinger let the water out of the tub and handed him clean clothes—his gray pajama pants and hoodie. The hives had noticeably shrunk in size and no longer looked so red and angry, fading to pink spots on his skin. He toweled off and dressed as quickly as he could, feeling lethargic, limbs heavy.

Stinger just took his hand and led him into the living room. He must have made a surprised face, because Stinger just said, “You’ll want to be able to sleep tonight, so you don’t want to be too comfortable.”

They settled on the couch, Naaga practically using Stinger as a pillow, head on his shoulder, arm around his waist. Stinger just set up his datapad and pulled up a Circuit show, one of the few networks that was not controlled by Jark Matter. Balance, Hame, Lucky, Raptor and even Spada followed some of the shows like clockwork. Naaga did not understand the appeal. The show Stinger put on was one that Naaga vaguely recognized as being about monster hunters—Balance had mentioned liking that particular show at one point.

“I don’t understand these,” Naaga muttered.

“Neither do I,” Stinger replied. “But this one makes decent background noise.”

“Have you watched this before?”

“There were times when I was undercover that I got really bored.”

“These are ridiculous.”

“ _Really_ bored.”

Naaga was too tired to question that statement. He closed his eyes, settling into the warmth of Stinger’s body. Within a few minutes, he was asleep. 

\--------------------

When he woke up, he was curled up on the couch and covered with a blanket. Stinger was not on the couch with him anymore. He glanced at a clock in the room. Mid-afternoon. They had gotten back from the lake late morning, so he’d been asleep for a few hours. He’d have to get Raptor to run a full allergy panel on him when they got back to the ship, because he did not like how the medication made him feel. He pulled back a sleeve on his hoodie. The hives were gone, but his mouth was dry and he felt like all the sleep had been superficial, not really decent sleep to be beneficial for anything. Quiet noises were coming from the kitchen, explaining where Stinger was. Naaga stood up and padded into the kitchen.

Stinger was standing in front of the stove, preparing what appeared to be an early dinner. (Naaga had slept through lunch, and Stinger probably had not eaten anything.) He had put on the loose black pants he wore to bed, and wasn’t wearing anything else, except for his scorpion tail necklace and the silver ring. Since getting back to the ship, Stinger had started to look better—he was eating three meals a day, sleeping for eight hours a night, and working out twice a day. The routine was doing wonders for him. He’d always had muscles, but they were even more defined now. 

He hadn’t heard him yet, and Naaga was glad. Stinger looked relaxed and comfortable, at ease preparing the food. He was softly singing to himself as he grilled chicken in a frying pan. The words were almost too soft to hear over the sounds from the kitchen and ambient noise, but he caught the phrase, _You being here is my courage_ and then, _If this night opens to a new day_. A love song. Maybe. Stinger’s hair was falling into his eyes. He seemed… happy. The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows, catching his necklace and the ring. He was in his element, and looked beautiful that way. If there was no Jark Matter or Kyuurangers or Scorpio… just them… then this would be Stinger. All the guilt and sadness and toil fallen away to just peaceful domesticity. 

_It’s a phrase that encompasses both joy and pain, “I love you.”_

Stinger turned as he moved further into the kitchen. He smiled a little. “You’re awake.”

He nodded, walking fully into the room. “The medication hit me hard.”

“It does that.”

“Need some help?”

Stinger nodded. “Get some plates and silverware.” He motioned to the island with stools at one end in the kitchen. “We can just eat in here.”

Naaga got two plates, and then silverware, putting them at the end of the counter. He then got two glasses of water, beginning to drink his already. The kitchen was remarkably neat and clean. Stinger must have been cleaning up anything he used to prep the food as he went. He watched as Stinger added asparagus to the pan with the chicken, realizing the chicken was likely done and he was just quickly steaming the vegetables in the same pan—smart, efficient. Spada always made more food, but the clean-up seemed to be entirely after the meal. Huh.

“I didn’t know you cooked,” Naaga said softly. 

Stinger shrugged as he brought the pan over to the table and put a serving of chicken and the vegetables on each of their plates. “It’s not fancy,” he replied. 

“Did someone teach you?”

A slow nod as he moved to the cleaner and loaded the pan and utensil. He then turned off the stove and came to join Naaga at the island. Naaga had positioned them sitting at one corner, next to each other. “My brother joined the military when I was little,” he finally replied, voice a little guarded, a little sad from the memories. “My caretaker when he was away taught me.” A distant smile, and then, “She used to say that all the fighting in the world would do me no good unless I knew how to feed myself.”

Naaga reached out and squeezed his hand. Stinger’s eyes were on him, before he closed the small distance between them, kissing him, long and chaste, but hinting at more. 

“She’s right about that,” Naaga replied.

Stinger looked distant for a moment, before studying Naaga. “Looks like the hives are gone,” he said, effectively changing the subject. 

Naaga nodded. 

“You should probably take another dose of meds before bed just to be sure.”

Naaga wrinkled his nose. 

Stinger just picked up his fork. “Since we’re not sure how you’ll react to cross-contamination, I just got rid of everything the strawberries touched. Wasn’t much, so we should be okay.” He paused. “And there’s fresh sheets on the bed.”

Basically, he had nothing to worry about.

“That’s very thoughtful of you,” he replied, warm feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

“I like taking care of you.”

_I like taking care of you._

Stinger had been in so much pain lately and not really taking care of himself, so Naaga had spent a lot of time just ensuring that he took care of the basics—eating and sleeping. And because Stinger had been in so much pain, he lashed out, acting recklessly, trying to do something. He didn’t really know what to do, but couldn’t sit still and do nothing. He knowingly put himself in danger and Naaga just wanted him to remember that people cared about him. He wasn’t alone. And at this point, if he did anything stupid, Champ was likely to lock him in a holding cell on ORION-gou and leave him there. Probably mooing about what a pain in the ass Stinger was the entire time. Not to mention Balance kept making not-so-veiled threats whenever he saw Stinger. 

But this… he knew that Stinger knew him well. Stinger knew which tea he liked and the times of day he drank them, which side he liked to sleep on, which foods were his favorites, lots of things right down to the temperature he liked the room if they were going to sleep. But today, Stinger had just done what he knew needed to be done and then done everything he could to help Naaga feel better, more comfortable. From the bath to the massage to just lying on the couch together, Stinger had just wanted him to feel better. Getting rid of the thing he was allergic to, fixing dinner… perhaps Naaga was foolish for thinking Stinger forgot about a future, because this could be their future and Stinger seemed very comfortable with every moment. 

“There’s a fire pit outside,” Naaga said as they began to eat. “Maybe we could build a fire. Watch the sunset.”

Stinger nodded.

They ate in a comfortable silence. Naaga was not sure what Stinger cooked the chicken and vegetables with, but everything tasted fantastic. Seasoned just enough, but not overly so. Stinger might not have thought anything he cooked was fancy, but everything tasted good. 

They put the dishes away after they ate, and then went outside. The sky had settled into dusk and Stinger built a small fire in the fire pit. Like the dock, there was some furniture outside. Stinger was still shirtless and barefoot in the warm weather. One of the chairs was oversized, so Stinger just settled back, pulling Naaga between his legs and against his chest. One arm was around his waist and the other was across his chest, holding him close. 

Stinger had said once that he found watching a fire to be peaceful. Naaga was starting to agree. Watching the wood burn, releasing years and year of energy, soaked up from the sun and air and ground, trading in bright lights, hisses and pops, and the earthy smell of smoke. The sounds the fire made oddly allowed him to focus on other sounds in the night, crickets, birds, the wind through the trees. He could feel Stinger’s even breathing against his back. 

The sun was setting behind the mountains as Naaga turned to Stinger, meeting him in a lazy, open-mouthed kiss. 

Back in the cabin, after darkness fell and the fire was put out, Stinger made him a cup of chamomile tea in the kitchen. Stinger didn’t push the issue with additional meds, just got him a half-dose and Naaga grudgingly swallowed the pill with his tea. 

When he yawned, Stinger just took his hand, turning out the lights in the kitchen and leading him into the bedroom. Stinger gently pushed the hoodie from his shoulders and he gladly shed the garment. They crawled into bed and Stinger pulled him close. Naaga’s head was on his shoulder, an arm across his waist and a leg between his. Stinger’s arm was wrapped around his shoulders. He was asleep within minutes.

\-------------------

The sun was just beginning to come up the next morning when Stinger blinked awake. Naaga was still breathing evenly, pressed against his side. He noticed two things—Naaga’s stomach was grumbling slightly (enough to be audible) and Naaga was completely hard, which Stinger could feel against his hip. They could take care of both those things this morning.

Stinger let out a long breath, fingers going to trace nonsense patterns on Naaga’s arm. He had to stop and think before he did things, and that was the exact opposite of his reactions to a lot of things. The entire situation with his brother had been doomed from the beginning, and then especially when he decided to use Antares. But somehow, his brother, the brother he knew and loved, came back to him, and his brother took on the consequence of his bad decision, stopping Don Armage from destroying them right then and there. Naaga had given him the space to go after his brother in the first place. And in spite of everything that had happened, he knew that Naaga just wanted him to come back. Naaga believed in him, even if the others (Balance) told him to forget about Stinger. 

He didn’t know how he’d earned Naaga’s faith, when he kept doing things that would have driven anyone else away. Maybe that’s why he and Naaga were together in the first place, because Naaga had never asked him for anything that he couldn’t give him. And Naaga had never made him promise to stay away from Scorpio. Naaga never made him promise to stay on the ship. Naaga only wanted him to find a way to be okay with everything, to forgive himself. 

Such a small thing, yet so huge. 

Naaga stirred.

“Good morning,” Stinger whispered to him.

Naaga made a muffled noise, not really coherent yet. He opened his eyes, seeming to come to the same conclusion that Stinger did—he was hard and hungry. Neither of which were states that Naaga was usually in when he first woke up, meaning this was new territory for him. Stinger extracted himself enough from Naaga to gently push him into the mattress, and give him a lazy kiss, tongue rolling into his mouth. Naaga made a small desperate noise, hips bucking up already. They could make this quick and dirty and still be what both of them wanted this weekend. 

Stinger pushed the blankets off them, and then untied the drawstring of Naaga’s pajama pants, pushing them down his hips. Naaga got the idea and finished removing the pants. Stinger backed up, removing his own pants. He then grabbed the lube from the nightstand (which had gotten placed there sometime yesterday in anticipation of this.) He backed up against the headboard of the bed, before giving Naaga a long look and saying, “Come here.”

Naaga moved across the small space between them in the bed, still lethargic, but definitely okay with where things were going. Stinger got an arm around his waist, pulling him completely onto his lap. Naaga went easily, straddling his lap, erection brushing his stomach. Stinger got a hand in his hair, angling him down for another slow, deep kiss. Naaga responded beautifully, mouth opening to him, tongue sliding against his own. He made a helpless noise into the kiss, hips grinding down, hands scrabbling at his shoulders and neck. 

Gods, just seeing Naaga in this state was enough to get him hot and almost there. Usually, at this point with past lovers, Stinger was more than ready to move on. But none of the old patterns held with Naaga. The idea of being with Naaga for the rest of his life, having sex with only him, was not intimidating like it once might have been. Instead, he found himself reacting to just thinking about Naaga and the things they were going to do. Naaga made him feel like a damn teenager sometimes and there were things he’d never have even thought about doing with past lovers that he wanted to try with Naaga. They’d once talked about Stinger’s past sexual partners, and all there really was to say was there were not nearly as many as he’d lead people to believe (three—there were three, two women and one man) and he hadn’t loved any of them. Which had then inadvertently led into Stinger having to explain the idea of casual sex, which Naaga did not understand—why would someone have sex with a person if they did not love them?

He reached between their bodies, giving himself two strokes so he was completely hard. Naaga moaned into the kiss and ground his hips down, fully seated in Stinger’s lap. Stinger moved away from his lips, pressing kisses down his jaw and neck to his shoulder. Naaga gasped, fingers biting his skin. Stinger just reached out, tasting his skin, before his fingers were back in Naaga’s hair and pulling him into a hot, fiery kiss, tasting him completely and thoroughly. 

He rubbed Naaga’s upper thigh for a moment, whispering, “Sit up a little.”

Naaga shifted up some, hands on his shoulders for leverage. His eyes tracked Stinger’s movements as he opened the lube and poured some over three fingers. His head dropped to Stinger’s shoulder, breath hot against his skin as Stinger gently circled him, spreading the lube around before slowly working one finger into him. His lips brushed Stinger’s shoulder and he gasped, taking short, hitched breaths as Stinger got one finger completely inside him. He crooked his finger just right, finding Naaga’s sweet spot, which caused him to cry out, noise desperate.

Naaga whined as he added a second finger. They could only go so fast with this part, and Naaga was rocking his hips a little, noises wordless and pleased. “Patience,” he whispered as he fully got the second finger in and spread both a little, pulling another whine from Naaga. “It’s been a while. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Naaga breathed. He moaned involuntarily as Stinger brushed his sweet spot again. “Not that long,” he finally ground out.

Stinger added a third finger anyways, Naaga moaning at the additional stretch and burn, hips grinding down on his fingers, erection continuing to brush his stomach. With his free hand, Stinger brushed the sweat-dampened hair from his eyes, blinking through the sheen of sweat on his own skin. The room was quiet with just their breathing, early morning sunlight streaming through the window. As he gently spread his fingers a little, Naaga surprised him by reaching for the lube on the bed and opening the bottle. He poured some over Stinger’s cock, causing him to gasp in surprise and then groan, deep in the back of his throat, when Naaga rubbed the lube over him. 

Naaga shifted up a little, positioning himself as Stinger removed his fingers. Naaga’s hand was on his cock, guiding him in. Naaga sank down slowly, eyes closed and mouth open as he slowly became fully seated on Stinger’s cock. One of Stinger’s hands was on his waist and the other on his thigh, drawing deep, ragged breaths at the look of complete and utter pleasure on Naaga’s face. Naaga opened his eyes, closing the small distance between them, and starting a messy, uncoordinated kiss. Stinger hummed into the kiss, shifting to sit up a little to give Naaga better leverage to move. 

He had leverage on his knees, using mostly his thighs to move once, tentatively, settling into the angle and the rhythm that he liked. But once Naaga got going, Stinger moved his hips to keep up with him, arms moving completely around his waist, giving him something to lean on. The kiss broke when Naaga moaned, clearly finding an angle that hit his sweet spot. Naaga’s hands were on his shoulders, eyes wide and on him. Gods, Naaga was always so hot and tight and fucking amazing. Stinger sat up even more, thrusting harder into him, and Naaga moaned again, “Stinger,” grounding out his name. 

Naaga was close, and Stinger could feel his own release building. Before he could reach between their bodies, Naaga tensed and a wordless noise of pleasure came out of him. He spilled between them. Stinger thrust once more, and his head was against Naaga’s shoulder as he came, body tense and teeth gently scraping. 

The only sound was their uneven breathing, until Naaga’s stomach grumbled softly.

Stinger smiled, raising his head. He gently brushed Naaga’s hair away from his face. Naaga looked wrecked but also incredibly satisfied. Stinger kissed him softly. “Let’s shower,” he said softly, “And then we need to get some food into you. I’ll make breakfast.”

Naaga nodded in agreement.

They untangled themselves from the bed and padded to the shower. The shower went quickly and they dressed in their shorts to prepare breakfast. Stinger had chopped most of the vegetables yesterday before dinner, towards the end of Naaga being asleep. So making breakfast went quickly. Just an egg scramble with vegetables and a little bit of bacon. Standing in the kitchen, making this particular breakfast, tugged at the fuzzy memories of his venom-induced dreams. 

Before they were about to eat, Naaga pulled him close and kissed him. “We need to do this when we’re back on the ship,” he whispered.

“You want me to cook for you and fuck you when we’re back on the ship?”

Naaga nodded, cheeks a little pink. 

“I can do that.”

Small steps, small promises. 

Hope was not lost.

_You being here is my courage._

\-------------------

Spada and Balance were walking down the hall of the ship towards the galley when they caught Stinger and Naaga, bags over their shoulders, heading towards the living quarters. Sunday afternoon, they were back from their trip. (The trip that everyone had speculated was sorely needed.)

“How was the trip?” Spada asked, tone generically cheerful and inquisitive.

Spada caught Stinger’s eye twitch a little before he deflected with, “Naaga is allergic to strawberries.”

“What?” Spada asked, frowning.

“How did you figure _that_ out?” Balance added, tone indicating how random he found that particular piece of information to be.

“Because I ate a strawberry,” Naaga replied, expression neutral but tone pretty much saying, _how else would I have figured that out?_

“Are you okay?” Spada questioned, realizing the question was kind of dumb because Naaga was walking around and did not appear to be in distress, but still. 

“I’m fine. Raptor ran an allergy panel. It’s just strawberries.”

Spada made a mental note—no more strawberries around Naaga or anything Naaga might eat. 

The conversation appearing to be over, Stinger and Naaga continued down the hall towards Stinger’s room. Spada and Balance were silent for a moment, before Balance blurted, “Okay, that’s just random, right? There’s got to be more to that story, right?”

And so the wild speculation began. Spada did his best to be neutral, just telling people this was none of their business, but he could only do so much. This was going to float around ORION-gou for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confession: I've had this chapter written for a long time and could not wait to use it! (Just had to edit some of the internal monologue so that it fit in chronologically.) I'm really just envisioning a pause between episode 21 and 22, like everything just settles for a while. (You know, Jark Matter is regrouping, Tsurugi is doing who-knows-what on the surface but leaving them alone for now, everyone is on the ship business as usual.)
> 
> Thank you for all your continued support on this fic! I know I sound like a broken record, but I am so thrilled there are readers who are loving this fic as much as I am loving writing it! You all are awesome! I've got a couple of main ideas for following chapters - ship fun times. But as always, feel free to send me suggestions (here or on tumblr), and just let me know you're out there every so often.
> 
> I want to see where Tsurugi takes us next. I'm not going to be thrilled if Stinger and Naaga are apart again, but I'll make it work! So 1-2 weeks for the next update. Have a great week y'all, and stay tuned!


	15. Finding Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being on opposing schedules was utterly exhausting and Naaga was not even the one on the night shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And back to our regularly scheduled program! Set after episode 22 and some spoilers therein. Watch first before you read. Enjoy!

**15/ Finding Home**   
_Home is where your story begins._

Being on opposing schedules was utterly exhausting and Naaga was not even the one on the night shift.

For the foreseeable future, Stinger had been assigned to the night shift, which ran from ten at night until six in the morning. Aside from the obvious fact that was when he usually slept (more or less), Naaga working during the day and Stinger at night meant they were never really in sync with what they needed to be doing. Stinger was getting up and getting ready to work, while Naaga was trying to wind down and get to sleep. And then the opposite happened in the morning. They weren’t sleeping at the same time, which meant that both of them spent parts of their sleep time tossing and turning. Stinger just left his penguin in the bed, and Naaga had taken to holding the stuffed animal close, just because it was soft and smelled like Stinger. Sort of helped. Having Stinger there would have been better. 

They’d fallen into something resembling a routine, nonetheless. 

Stinger would get back in the morning as Naaga was getting up. Naaga would get dressed and ready for the day, and Stinger would just change into sleep clothes, washing up. They would go to breakfast together. (One of the things Naaga had insisted on was that Stinger actually eat three meals a day—he didn’t actually care if he went to the galley with everyone else or found his own food. Stinger had been surprisingly easygoing about that and agreed with no protest.) Naaga then went off to his assigned shift and Stinger went back to the room to finish some chores and then go to bed. 

In the evening, Naaga usually got back just as Stinger was waking up. (If he was awake, he’d not been so for long.) They then usually had sex, though occasionally they just settled for kissing and holding each other. Afterwards, they showered, and then Stinger was getting dressed for the day and Naaga was changing into sleep clothes. That put them later than dinner was served in the galley, but they still had time before Stinger needed to be on shift. So Stinger’s promise to cook for him came in. They would go to the galley and prepare their own late dinner. Stinger knew how to make a variety of meals from memory. They would make the meal together, Naaga just following whatever instructions Stinger had for him. That gave them the opportunity to talk, about anything really, with eating and then cleaning up their dishes. In a lot of ways, Naaga enjoyed Stinger’s food more than Spada’s, just because he kept things simple, but warm and tasty. Naaga would then make sure Stinger had food to take with him on shift. Stinger bristled at the idea of packing a lunch, but that was really what it amounted to. 

At that point, they had a few minutes to kiss, before Stinger needed to be on shift, and Naaga was going back to the room to try to sleep. They’d been pretty much exclusively living in Stinger’s room, but just had not made the official change to move everything into one place. (Plus scavenging some extra furniture was going to take some time.)

A few days ago, before Balance and Champ left for Keel, Balance had said, “I guess you’re going to see Stinger and miss dinner, again.” They had been walking towards the living quarters from one of the maintenance bays. Naaga had given Balance a sidelong look. Balance had sounded both annoyed and resigned, like he wanted to say more on the subject but was leaving it at that.

“Yes,” he finally replied simply, not wanting to have yet another discussion with Balance about this. He felt like he’d told Balance too many times already that this wasn’t his business. Balance didn’t necessarily dislike Stinger as a person or a fellow Kyuuranger, but he was really concerned about how Stinger acted towards Naaga and their relationship. Stinger had been steadier lately, especially after apologizing to everyone, so Balance’s remarks were getting fewer.

“Is he okay?”

Naaga blinked, not expecting the question. Some withering remark, sure, but this? “Okay?” he repeated.

“On the night shift. Champ doesn’t sleep, so he’s fine. I would think Stinger would be exhausted at this point.”

“Oh.” Naaga paused. “He’s tired, but it won’t be forever.”

“Shouldn’t be.” Balance clapped his shoulder. “Champ’s asked a couple of times already for them to go back on a normal rotation.”

“Really?” Naaga asked before he could stop the question.

“He’s worried because Stinger seems overly tired, but he’s also made no secret of the fact that he thinks you two being apart is part of the problem.”

“That’s nice of him.”

“He cares a lot about Stinger.”

Naaga knew. Champ sent Naaga messages almost every night. First, Champ seemed to be really worried about the food Stinger was eating on shift—was it enough? Was it giving him enough energy? Should he be drinking coffee too? Naaga later found out Champ only asked him because Stinger had brushed off all Champ’s questions around food. Then Champ wanted to know how much Stinger was sleeping during the day. Naaga really had no idea—he assumed Stinger went to bed around nine or ten in the morning, because he was awake when Naaga got back at five or six in the evening. Now, Champ had shifted to asking Naaga if he was okay.

Which honestly begged the question of what Stinger was talking about when those two were on shift. Naaga had mentioned Champ messaging him, and Stinger just shook his head, not seeming upset about the interactions. But he seriously doubted Stinger was talking about anything private, because Stinger would rather admit in public he sewed all the plushies before spilling anything private.

Balance clapped his shoulder again as they approached the living quarters. “See you in the morning,” he said. And he was off down the hall with a wave.

Now, Naaga just walked slowly towards the living quarters after his shift. Too much always seemed to be happening around them. And Ohtori Tsurugi did not make things better. Earth was just a far away insignificant planet, right? Like so many other planets. How could any of the things he claimed be true, let alone him be the one that accomplished them? The whole thing just seemed too fantastic to be true, and Naaga had not been able to stop the outburst. Which stopped all the others cold, because Naaga did not have outbursts. 

And then Stinger’s hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring. Stinger kept his hand on his shoulder for a few seconds as he asked a generic question, re-centering the conversation and easily taking the attention off Naaga. When he wanted to be, Stinger could be diplomatic and a leader—he just chose not to most of the time. 

During that particular mission, Naaga knew Stinger was frustrated by not being on the surface and fighting with them. But he also knew when to lay low and not argue—part of the reason he had just accepted the night shift and not complained, not even to Naaga. 

Naaga let out a long breath and then entered the room.

All he comprehended as he stepped in and shut the door behind him was that Stinger was not in bed anymore. Then Stinger was in his space, kissing him soundly. He gasped, shiver going straight down his spine as Stinger deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue against his own. Stinger backed him up to one of the walls, body hot as it pressed against his own. “Stinger,” he moaned as Stinger moved away from his lips, mouth hot against his neck. Stinger unzipped his jacket, and then untucked his shirt, hands running over any skin he found.

Naaga felt flushed, more tremors down his back, pants uncomfortably tight. 

“I have wanted you all afternoon,” Stinger murmured against his lips, before capturing him in another fiery kiss. Naaga’s hands were on his shoulders and he realized belatedly that Stinger was not wearing a shirt, his hands over bare skin. 

Naaga gasped again, hips bucking as he felt Stinger’s fingers on his belt. He quickly unbuckled his belt, and then buttoned and unzipped his pants. Then Stinger’s hand was inside his shorts and pants, fingers wrapping around his length and stroking, all firm pressure. A needy whine escaped his lips. His hands weren’t still, moving across Stinger’s shoulders. Whenever Stinger ambushed him like this, he could never really keep up with what he was supposed to be doing, other than to lie back (or whatever the case may be) and let Stinger have his way with him. Not that any of that was a problem, because Stinger was always an amazing lover. 

Another whine that would have otherwise been embarrassing came out.

One of Stinger’s hands was on his stomach, rubbing his skin, soothing.

“I’ve got you,” Stinger said softly, dropping to his knees.

_Oh._

Naaga was beyond words, flushed red and sweating slightly. Stinger freed his erection from his shorts and pants, one hand continuing to rub his stomach. His eyes were wide and bright as he looked up at Naaga for a moment. Then the small predatory smile, hair falling into one of his eyes. Breathe close enough to his cock for him to feel it, Stinger just said, “You can pull on my hair a little. I like that.”

The noise he made was incomprehensible. 

Stinger kept one hand on his stomach, the other squeezing the base of his cock. He leaned forward slightly, tongue running over the tip. Naaga’s breath came out in a stuttering gasp. He inhaled sharply, one hand threading through Stinger’s hair, the other resting on his shoulder for leverage. He felt like he might fall over, but Stinger was keeping him upright. 

Then he took more of him into his mouth, tongue swirling and teeth gently scraping. Naaga moaned. He never lasted long when Stinger did this. His hand continued to work the part of him not his mouth as he moved his mouth up and down his length, tongue pressing against the underside. “Stinger,” he ground out, fingers inadvertently tightening in his hair. 

Stinger pulled off with a pop and the smile was back. But not for long, as he took Naaga back into his mouth, sucking in earnest. His mouth was hot and wet and the pressure was almost too much. His head hit the wall with a slight thud as he moaned again. His teeth scraped again, gently and slowly down his entire length. Naaga nearly shouted at that, as Stinger followed that up by soothing with his tongue. His mouth retreated down to the tip and then swallowed him down again.

His body was tense under Stinger’s hand. “Stinger—“ he choked, which was all he could get out, before he came hard, spilling down Stinger’s throat. The hand on his stomach continued to rub circles, easing him through the high. 

Stinger stood up, catching him as he practically collapsed. “Hi,” he said, the stupid smile back.

“Hello yourself,” Naaga muttered, poking his side. He was breathless, and felt loose and boneless, like his entire spine had turned to liquid. 

“I think you’ve got too many clothes on.” Stinger slid his Seiza Blaster off his wrist and put it on the nightstand. He then pushed his jacket from his shoulders, which Naaga easily shrugged off.

“Why?” Naaga asked as Stinger pushed his shirt up and over his head. “You planning on going again?” They’d done this before, and Naaga found he actually liked it a lot—Stinger would get him off somehow and then start opening him up. By the time Stinger was done with that, Naaga was usually ready to go for round two. 

“Not unless you give me a minute.”

Naaga blinked, and then comprehended that Stinger was just pushing his shorts off, tossing them with the laundry. “Wait,” he shook his head. “You—“

“Came from just that?” Stinger nodded. “Told you I’ve been thinking about it all afternoon.” Stinger got back into his space and gave him a messy kiss. Naaga could taste traces of himself, but also that overpowering taste that was just Stinger. He scraped his teeth over Naaga’s bottom lip as they broke apart. He was smiling slightly now.

Naaga felt a small smile tug as his own lips. He toed out of his shoes, and then took off the remainder of his clothes. The blankets were already pulled to the foot of the bed, the penguin relocated to Stinger’s footlocker at the end of the bed. (“I don’t want that bird watching us go at it,” Stinger had said on more than one occasion. Naaga pointing out that the penguin was just a stuffed animal did not change Stinger’s mind about that.)

When they got comfortable on the bed, Stinger pulled the sheet to their waists. He gently smoothed Naaga’s hair away from his forehead, closing the small space between them to kiss him briefly. He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling them flush.

“How’s life in the daylight?” Stinger murmured.

Naaga shrugged a little, threading his arm under Stinger’s, hand resting on his side. “The Commander seems to think Jark Matter on Earth is a little disorganized right now. Raptor said the surveillance agrees.”

“Confirms what we’ve seen at night.” He paused, palm rubbing a circle on Naaga’s back. “Champ didn’t message you about the food I’m eating again, right?”

Naaga shook his head.

“Good. He called me last night and acted like the food I was eating was super weird.”

“You had a turkey sandwich and zucchini chips.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s weird about that?”

“No idea. All he said was, ‘that’s what you’re eating’ and seemed shocked.” Stinger shook his head. “I couldn’t really tell if he was asking me weird questions to keep me awake or if he really wanted an answer.”

Naaga kissed him. “Don’t worry about it,” he whispered. “He cares.”

Stinger huffed a small laugh, smoothing back his hair again. “Has Balance been laying off you recently?”

He nodded. “They’re almost to Keel. He’s distracted with Eris.”

Another kiss. Stinger gently shifted their positions, rolling to press Naaga into the mattress. He had one leg between Naaga’s, weight warm and reassuring against his body. Naaga’s hands went to his hair, threading through before going to rest on the back of his neck as they kissed slowly for a moment. “How have you been?” Stinger asked, voice low.

“I miss you.” Naaga pressed a kiss to his jaw. “Sleeping badly.”

That wasn’t the entire truth, and Naaga knew that Stinger would be able to see that. All of Tsurugi’s claims seemed like they came directly from a mediocre Circuit show about space voyagers traversing the universe in search of new civilizations or some other fantastic tale. There’d be a whole federation of planets united. Tsurugi claiming he was the first human from Earth to go beyond their moon? And then found a Kyuutama before any of the original nine chose anyone? And then he became president of something called the Space Federation because he had united the universe? He was arrogant, yet a strong fighter, but all of that? None of that could be true. And all of this happened three hundred years? Naaga remembered history class in school. There was no Space Federation or anyone named Ohtori Tsuguri. 

What made things worse was, perhaps, the way Tsurugi viewed them. He made no secret of the fact that he was shocked they’d all gotten this far. They weren’t fighters, as far as he was concerned. Balance and Champ missed his judgment, which might be a small mercy. (Balance, in particular, would have been enraged at the insinuation that he couldn’t fight.)

A chef, an assistant, a man who relies on luck, a teenager, an emotional blank slate, a kid and a dog.

That’s how he saw them.

Stinger pulled back a little, brushing his hair away from his forehead. He pressed another kiss to his lips. “What else is wrong?” he asked.

He wrinkled his nose a little. “A lot has happened,” he finally said evasively.

“Tsurugi?” Stinger asked, voice low and sympathetic.

“I don’t like him.”

“No one likes him. But he’s strong, I’ll give him that.”

“I don’t like what he thinks of us.”

“Yeah. Spada did say he was an asshole about who was on the surface for the last mission.”

“I’m not an emotional blank slate.”

Stinger’s expression darkened for a moment, before he muttered, “Spada should not have repeated that in front of everyone at dinner.” Stinger pressed a kiss to Naaga’s jaw. “Tsurugi doesn’t know a fucking thing about any of us. Don’t let it get to you.”

“How?”

Stinger looked thoughtful at the simple question, before he smiled a little and shook his head. “I don’t actually know. Everyone always says that, but I take shit personally anyways.” He paused. “Maybe just think about how it’s not about us. Tsurugi’s been asleep for three hundred years and no one knows about anything he thinks is true. He’s in a fucking tailspin.”

“Are you saying that you think once he gets his bearings and gets to know us he’ll get better?”

“Gods, no. That guy is an asshole.”

That made Naaga huff a small laugh.

He readjusted his arms around Stinger’s shoulders and shifted, getting comfortable underneath him. Stinger smiled in return, lips grazing his own. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he whispered. Naaga shifted his hips upward, grinding against Stinger. “You ready for round two?”

Stinger pulled him into an uncoordinated, messy kiss, deep and wet. “I thought you’d never ask.”

\------------------

Spada was going to tear his hair out. The Commander had him running around after Tsurugi still, which meant he was preparing the meals on ORION-gou, and then making whatever Tsurugi wanted and taking the food over to the Argo Ship. He’d just gotten back from dropping off dinner on the Argo Ship and was headed to the galley to put up the dishes from earlier in the day. The Commander claimed they were still trying to get intel on Tsurugi, but Spada was pretty sure if they used Pega-san, and used the Tsuki mode on the Hikari Kyuutama on Garou, combined with Lucky, Stinger and Champ, they’d be able to subdue Tsurugi enough to get him in a holding cell and get some answers. 

Well, he’d convinced Tsurugi to come to ORION-gou for breakfast tomorrow, so that was something.

He stopped short when he entered the galley.

He had not been expecting anyone in the galley. Granted, he was later getting back than he had been for the whole week, but still.

Stinger and Naaga were in there, in the kitchen, clearly cooking.

The door to the galley was on the other side of the room, near the dining area, so neither of them noticed that he had entered. He set the dishes under the table silently, taking in the scene in front of him.

There was a skillet going on the stove, along with a saucepan with a lid on it. A prepared small glass casserole dish on the counter. Naaga was chopping something on the cutting board. “Like this?” he was asking.

Stinger looked over. “That works. Just depends on how big you want the pieces of broccoli to be in this.”

“Not too big,” Naaga replied.

Stinger was whisking something in the frying pan. Spada realized belatedly he was making a rue of some kind. The pair of them were talking idly as Naaga finished chopping the broccoli and then added the vegetables to the saucepan on the stove.

“You’re not an emotional blank slate,” Stinger was saying. “You’ve always felt emotions—you just didn’t start expressing them until recently.”

“But it’s not a nice thing to say.”

“You’re right, it’s fucking rude.” Stinger nudged Naaga a little. “Come on, I’m pretty sure we never would have started having sex unless you felt an extremely strong emotional connection to me.”

“I have emotional connections with other people.”

“You’re friends with other people, so yes. Not quite the same thing though.”

“How?”

“Naaga.”

“Really, how?”

“I don’t know. Maybe because I’m attracted to you and wanted that with you.”

“But I don’t want that with other people.”

“I know.”

“Is it because I love you, but like all these other people?”

Stinger just laughed at that a little. He pressed a quick kiss to Naaga’s lips. They were adding cooked chicken to the skillet, and the contents of the saucepan, which turned out to be brown rice and the broccoli. They added cheese and some sour cream to the mixture.

“We’re down a rabbit trail,” Stinger said. “I’m attracted to you. Tsurugi was rude. End of story.”

“Why are you attracted to me?”

“Because you have a great ass.”

“Be serious.”

“Because you are brave and care a lot.” Stinger’s voice was low, tone definitely serious.

Naaga kissed him.

They were quiet as they put the contents of the skillet into the casserole dish. Stinger sprinkled more cheese on the top and then put the dish in the oven. 

“How long?” Naaga asked as they were putting the rest of the dishes in the cleaner.

“Just five minutes. Long enough for the cheese to melt.”

_Che cavolo_. Spada had no idea repeating what Tsurugi had said had gotten to Naaga so badly, so he felt a little bad about that. And he knew, on some level, that Stinger and Naaga had to have in depth conversations when they were alone. (They didn’t talk much in front of other people, but that was typical for both of them.) Stinger was definitely completely relaxed in front of Naaga, because the mixture of sarcasm and seriousness seemed very in character for him. And Naaga just asked him whatever questions came to mind. Which made Naaga withdrawing when someone else got annoyed with his questions make more sense. Naaga genuinely wanted to know. He wasn’t asking questions to be annoying, like so many others could be.

But beyond all of that, he really wanted to know what they were cooking, because it smelled and looked fantastic. 

If Spada was really honest with himself, he’d noticed the extra dishes in the cleaner, the fact that someone had sharpened his knives, and put the measuring spoons back into sets instead of scattered in a drawer. And he knew that Naaga and Stinger had not been coming to dinner. He figured that they were eating the leftovers or having cold dinners. He had no idea they were in here full-on cooking and that Stinger was the one in charge.

The casserole came out of the over and into two bowls, the dish immediately in the cleaner. Some kind of cheesy rice something or other, with chicken and lots of broccoli. They were about to come over to the table, so Spada retreated to the hallway before they realized he was there.

Stinger hated being on the night shift.

Spada might have just thought of a way to solve that problem.

\-------------------

The next morning, Stinger felt like hell, and really just wanted to be in bed. But he’d promised Naaga three meals a day and the timing for breakfast was such that they just needed to join everyone else. Kotarou was at the end of the table. Stinger was next to him and Naaga on his other side. Oddly, Hame was on Kotarou’s other side and across from Stinger. Probably had very little to do with her deciding to get to know him better, and everything to do with the fact that Tsurugi was at the other end of the table, being given wide berth by everyone. Raptor asked him some polite questions once in a while.

Naaga was visibly annoyed that Tsurugi was there. Not that anyone other than Stinger would have really been able to tell how annoyed he was. He was tense, eyes cutting to Tsurugi every time he said something. Stinger would have to give him a massage tonight to get all the tension out of his shoulders. He reached over, squeezing his knee briefly.

Tsurugi was telling some wild tale to Raptor.

“Why is he here?” Naaga muttered.

That was the other sign. Naaga usually never voiced complaints. The fact that he was asking, with a slightly distressed note in his voice, conveyed exactly how frustrated he was.

“It’s better this way,” Hame replied. “Spada only has to make breakfast once. Not twice.”

Stinger frowned. “He was making separate meals to go over there?”

Hame nodded.

Stinger narrowed his eyes. The Commander needed to stop this chef and assistant bullshit.

He glanced down at his plate. He’d eaten the fruit and toast he’d taken, but then stopped at half of one of the turkey sausage links and one bite of scrambled eggs. He’d slept like crap yesterday, the thirty minute nap they’d had after the second time the best sleep he’d gotten. He’d spent all night dodging Indaver patrols, getting strange looks from early morning commuters, and wrenching his knee getting away from someone’s yappy tiny dog. Naaga had taped his knee before they came here, and he’d downed some anti-inflammatories and painkillers before breakfast. 

The rest of the food was making him feel vaguely ill.

Naaga nudged him, looking pointedly at his food.

He shook his head slightly.

The scrambled eggs bowl had made its way to their end of the table again, so Naaga just added another scoop of eggs to his plate. “Stop,” he said half-heartedly and with no real ire. “This is enough.”

Then he realized his sausages were multiplying. 

“Kotarou,” he warned. The kid had already slipped two extra sausages on his plate and had been in the process of sneaking a third there.

“Spada said four of those was a serving size,” Kotarou replied.

Stinger was not sure how that justified anything. “That makes five,” he pointed out.

“Spada said two servings was fine if you’re going to be running around on patrol all day.”

“Uh-huh. Keep that on your plate.” Kotarou pulled a face, one of those got-caught faces, but kept the extra sausage on his own plate.

How to tell them he was not sure he could physically eat this much right now?

“You should eat the fifth one,” Hame chimed in. “You don’t eat enough to keep a bird alive.”

Stinger stared at her. No one was intimidated by him anymore, so she just gave him a quick grin and shrugged. Kotarou took that as permission to put the sausage on his plate.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Fine.”

He was tired enough to feel like causing a scene was a good idea, but being tired also meant he didn’t have the energy to deal with Naaga or Kotarou if he inadvertently hurt their feelings. And he really did not want to be a drama queen in front of Hame, and definitely not Tsurugi. 

So he forced himself to eat the food on his plate. Since he was actually eating the eggs and sausages now, Naaga stopped Kotarou from trying to smuggle yet more food on his plate. (Seriously, how much food did the kid think he needed?) Fortunately, pretty quickly, the food was gone. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly, but at least all the food seemed like it was going to stay down.

Breakfast was winding down, so he, Naaga and Kotarou put their dishes in the cleaner and took off down the hall. Kotarou was weirdly clinging to his side, and Naaga was holding his other hand. “My stomach is going to hurt now, thanks to you two,” he grumbled.

Naaga just squeezed his hand. Unspoken, but basically saying, _you’ll be fine._

“What do you two have today?” he finally asked, just to make conversation.

“School,” Kotarou said, pulling a face.

“School is important,” Stinger replied, on auto-pilot.

“But if all the history we know is wrong, why am I learning it?”

“Because the last three hundred years is right and important.”

Had they had this argument before? He was pretty sure they had.

“But—“

“Kotarou,” he warned.

The kid thankfully decided to be quiet. Stinger really did not have the energy for this.

“Okay,” he said, pushing Kotarou away from his side and in front of him down the hall. “Go to school. Pay attention.”

“Fine,” Kotarou said, not looking happy. “See you tomorrow?”

Stinger nodded as Kotarou disappeared down the hall. Naaga squeezed his hand again, and then leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his lips. He responded. “Get to bed,” Naaga said. “I know you didn’t sleep much yesterday.”

He smiled a little. “Have fun resetting the sensors.”

“Really,” Naaga asked. “You’re going to bed, right?”

“I just need to do a load of laundry first.”

“Okay.” Naaga seemed satisfied with that. “See you tonight.”

He nodded, accepting one last kiss as Naaga also went down the hall, headed off to his own shift that morning. He watched him leave for a few moments, stifling a yawn. He was so tired, he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to sleep when he got back to his room.

“Stinger!”

He turned, Spada was jogging down the hall. He just looked at him, half hoping that his expression was not _what the hell do you want?_ The other half did not care.

“Got a minute?”

He continued to stare. 

“Okay,” Spada said, clearly choosing to ignore his lack of response. “I have an opportunity to rotate onto the night shift, and I need someone to cover cooking for me.”

“And?” Stinger knew where this was headed—he knew all too well where this was going. Only a matter of time before Spada realized they were cooking their own dinners in the galley.

Spada’s expression clearly said _really, we’re going to do it like this?_ He gave him a level look. “Cut the crap, Stinger. I know you and Naaga are cooking dinner in the galley.”

“You’ve never seen that.” Nope, he was not cutting the crap. Because he absolutely and unequivocally did not want to do what Spada was about to ask him for. 

“Then how did all my knives get sharpened?”

“The paring knife was dull.” Dammit! He was too tired for this.

“And how did all the measuring spoons get organized?”

“I didn’t do that.” And he didn’t. Naaga had.

“Come on, if I rotate onto the night shift like everyone else, then I won’t have to put up with this stupid meal service thing for Tsurugi anymore.” 

“Spada,” he started, but then decided to shift gears. Spada clearly knew they were cooking and, from the look of things, was not taking no for an answer. “I don’t know how to cook for more than two people,” he hissed.

“Just multiply the recipes!”

“It doesn’t work that way, and you know it!”

“Then how come Kotarou was eating sweet rolls the other day?”

“I only know how to make six of those at a time and I gave him the extras!”

This conversation was going nowhere, fast. Stinger was so tired and so frustrated—he really did not want to be having this talk right now. Spada rocked back on his heels for a moment, before dropping what was clearly his final enticement. “You’d get off night shift.”

“What?” he replied, blinking.

“You can’t be on regular night shift if you’re covering meals for me. You’d go back on the normal night shift rotation like everyone else.”

“Spada,” he said softly. “I really do not know how to cook for the number of people you do.”

“I’ll teach you. And Kotarou and Naaga and Champ would help.”

“None of them know how to cook.”

“Naaga’s been watching you—I’m sure he’s picked up a lot. And Champ can download a new program or two.” Spada paused. “Don’t let Kotarou near anything sharp or flammable.”

As if summoned by his name, “Aniki? You’re cooking dinner?” Kotarou had appeared.

“You’re supposed to be at school,” Stinger told him.

Kotarou was using the pocket of the hoodie was wearing as leverage. He frowned for a moment. “Isn’t this Naaga’s hoodie?” he asked.

“School. Now.” Stinger nudged him back down the hallway.

“If you cook, I’ll help!” Kotarou said he was walked off.

“Spada,” he continued. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’d have to come off regular night shift pretty much now in order to shadow you enough.”

“Did you check the schedule?”

“No. It says the same thing every day.”

Spada pulled up the schedule on his Seiza Blaster. “You’re only on half the night shift. You’re done at two in the morning. Then you can shadow me for lunch and then you have an afternoon shift.”

“Wait. So was me agreeing to this getting me off the night shift or was Raptor already rotating me off that shift?”

Spada shrugged. “I’m not telling. Neither is Raptor.” He paused. “Come on, Stinger. This is important to me.”

He let out a long breath. He rolled his neck briefly, and then, “Fine. But I am not wearing an apron. And if anyone complains about the food—“

“They won’t. They just want hot food.”

“Yay! I’ll help!” 

Kotarou had reappeared, yet again. “School,” Stinger finally said, tone sharp and giving Kotarou a pointed look. Luckily, Kotarou knew when he was about to cross a line, so he scampered down the hallway. Hopefully, permanently this time. Stinger pinched the bridge of his nose. A tension headache was quickly coming on, and he needed to do the laundry and get in bed before it got worse. 

“How’s he doing in school?” Spada asked.

“Fine. His grades are pretty good.” Stinger paused. “Why am I the only one with access to his grades?”

“You’re the only one he calls ‘Aniki’ and hugs constantly.”

“I’m not old enough to have a child,” Stinger muttered darkly.

“He’s not your child. He’s just a younger sibling you’re in charge of.”

“I don’t know if that’s any better.”

Spada clapped his shoulder. “You’re shadowing me at lunch tomorrow?”

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Spada looked over the moon about this. “Grazie!” he said with way more enthusiasm than Stinger wanted to hear at that moment. “Get some rest. You look terrible.” Spada took off back towards the galley.

Stinger watched him leave. What the hell did he just agree to?

“You do look pretty awful, Aniki.”

“Kotarou, if you are not logged in with everyone else and paying attention before the first bell—“

He didn’t have the finish the threat, which was good, because he could think of precisely nothing to threaten Kotarou with at that moment in time. Kotarou made a weird squeaking noise and was back down the hall. Stinger considered following him, but realized he could also check that Kotarou was logged in to the school program from his datapad in his room. 

Stinger trudged down the hallway and into his room.

Gods, he was so looking forward to sleeping in the same bed as Naaga it was ridiculous.

Being in sync with Naaga would definitely help.

One more day and then he could get tangled up in the sheets every night with Naaga again.

\--------------------

A few days later, Spada was starting his first rotation on the night shift with Hame. They were about to leave for the Voyager Bay and the galley was on the way, so he decided to make a quick stop there to see how Stinger was doing. (If there was anyone he trusted to keep the kitchen equipment in good working order, it was Stinger.)

He paused in the doorway. Stinger’s odd little family was always endearing to watch.

Champ was still on Keel with Balance, but Spada imagined they’d have him set the table or go get things from the fridge or pantry that they needed.

Naaga was at the stove, monitoring the two large pans there.

Stinger was standing behind Kotarou, guiding him as he cut some vegetables. Kotarou was concentrating hard, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. Spada never let Kotarou around knives, because he was disaster with them, but Stinger had him focused. Stinger grew up hard and knew lots of survival skills none of them could fathom. Spada’s home planet kept children away from stoves or sharp objects until they were well into their teens or young adults. Stinger clearly felt like Kotarou was old enough and responsible enough to learn.

“Like that,” Stinger was saying. “Small pieces.”

He stepped away from Kotarou, keeping an eye on him. He took over one of the pans from Naaga. Naaga looked pleased, accepting a brief kiss from Stinger. 

They did not need his help, in spite of Stinger’s misgivings. They had this.

Spada shook his head as he left the galley.

Stinger could take over the entire ship and run everything smoothly, if he had a mind to.

But he was content right now.

Because, deep down, Stinger had always just wanted a family. And now he had one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Tsurugi! He definitely throws a wrench in things, doesn't he? But I had my moments with the little Stinger and Naaga interaction during this episode. (I'm going down with my ship, guys!) I am also hearing some rumblings in the tumblr-sphere about some potential storylines with Naaga next month, and my first reaction was "aaaeee!" followed by "No, wait, this is excellent!" If any of it proves to pan out. :D
> 
> As always, huge, huge, huge, thanks to my lovely readers! Thank you for reading, kudos-ing, commenting and otherwise supporting this fic. (I think I'm hosting a party when this gets to 100k words!) You all are the best and I am thrilled that all of you are joining me on this journey! (Check out my high school AU fic, One Man Drinking Games, also Stinger/Naaga. And be warned, tumblr keeps giving me other AU ideas.) :D
> 
> Peace out y'all and stay tuned!


	16. Choosing to Shine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kotarou was an absolute pain in the ass when he didn’t want to do homework.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! This chapter is set after episode 23 (but before the weirdness that was in the preview for episode 24.) Mild spoilers for 23 (kind of blink and you'll miss it.) Enjoy!

**16/ Choosing to Shine**   
_Look how they shine for you._

Kotarou was an absolute pain in the ass when he didn’t want to do homework. 

With Spada still on the surface with Tsurugi and Raptor, Stinger had been covering the meals. (The Commander pretty much had him grounded—or whatever. Not going on missions and staying on ORION-gou.) Just as well, because he was actually able to cover the meals. No one had complained about the food and, most of the time, he just made something that could be kept warm and people could get when they got a chance. That night’s dinner was chicken chili that was pretty spicy. (Kotarou ate his while gulping a glass of milk and asking what was in the stuff.) There was also cornbread and he’d finally figured out how to multiply the sweet roll recipe, so there were sweet rolls too.

Dinner went together fast and then just simmered. Stinger had let Kotarou help with preparing the meal, and then, after they ate, he made Kotarou sit at the table and work on his homework. Enough people were in and out that Kotarou had a break every so often.

“I don’t like this.”

“It’s math. It’s necessary.”

“I already learned it ten problems ago!”

“Keep going. Practice makes perfect.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I had to do pages of math problems like that—you do too.”

The responses were automatic. He’d had this argument with Kotarou too many times, so his attention was on his datapad and the information they were slowly gathering about the Vice Shoguns. Don Armage kept his top retainers close to the chest—not much was known about them. Hell, until a few days ago, they hadn’t thought there was anyone higher up than the Chief Retainers. 

Kotarou looked up eagerly when the galley door opened.

Hame and Garou had come by and gotten food first, Garou asking Kotarou about his school work and what he was studying for Rebellion. Lucky, the Commander and Champ showed up after them. Champ didn’t actually eat organic food (as he called what organic beings ate), but he tended to come to meals to spend time with everyone. With Spada and Raptor on the surface with Tsurugi, that left two people that they hadn’t seen yet that evening.

Stinger looked up from the datapad as Naaga and Balance came into the galley. Kotarou twitched like he was going to get up. “No,” Stinger said firmly, heading off the impulse. “Stay there. You need to finish the math and then answer the history questions.” Kotarou frowned.

“Stuck doing homework?” Balance called as they walked in.

He accepted a brief kiss from Naaga as he walked by. “Chicken chili,” he said at Naaga’s questioning look about the food.

Balance sat down at the end of the table, drinking something that looked vaguely oily out of a water bottle with a straw. 

“You clearly like Naaga the best,” Kotarou commented, eyebrows raised as he exaggeratedly looked back down at his homework.

“Oh really?” he asked.

“Yeah. You didn’t tell anyone else what was for dinner. You just pointed to the stove.”

Stinger gave him a level look. “That’s all the direction they needed.”

Balance ruffled Kotarou’s hair. “Give it up. He’s only nice to Naaga.”

“You people want food or not?” Stinger grumbled.

“Not that I eat that food,” Balance replied nonchalantly. “But according to Hame, all the food has been awesome, and she liked tonight’s dinner to the point that she told us about it when we saw her just now.” Balance shrugged.

Stinger barely suppressed rolling his eyes. Hame would, quite literally, eat anything, so he wasn’t sure how far her ringing endorsement would get him. The same could be said for Lucky. Of the others that weren’t mechanical and ate what he’d been cooking, no one had gotten sick or whined about the selection. About the only one here who was at all discerning was Naaga. 

Naaga sat down next to him at the table with a bowl of chili. He looked a little worn out. Stinger tried to remember where he and Balance had been assigned that day. 

Right. Maintenance bay. System diagnostics. Which meant Naaga had to keep up with Balance running through the systems fast. Naaga was more than capable of running diagnostics and repairing the systems on his own, but he was often paired with Balance for that and Balance, being mechanical, was capable of going way faster than Naaga. And he didn’t slow down. So Naaga was coming along behind him and trying to see if he’d missed something—all day.

No wonder he was worn out.

“Did you all see Raptor posted the recon missions today?” Balance asked as Naaga began to eat. 

Kotarou perked up at that. “Homework,” Stinger reminded him.

With the Jark Matter forces scattered on Earth and with Tsurugi’s appearance (and some of the things he’d told them), the Commander and Raptor had been making a list of things to monitor and do—a giant task list basically—but the Commander insisted on calling them recon missions. Everything was really just planting bugs, doing more satellite surveillance and skimming Jark Matter signals enough to get intel, especially maps of where they were drawing district lines with the governors. And in another gesture of weird leadership, the Commander had decided to simply post the missions and let people take them. Raptor identified how many people and the length of each one.

“Found a perfect one for you two,” Balance continued. He pulled up the list on his datapad and tapped on a mission. He turned the datapad so they could see it.

“Planting a ton of bugs?” Stinger questioned.

“It’s overnight,” Balance clarified. “Plant the bugs and then monitor them overnight for a few hours.”

Stinger pulled up the list on his own datapad and looked at the mission. He saw why Balance had zeroed in on this particular mission—two people, overnight, plant the bugs and then monitor. And monitoring the bugs meant setting the alarms to go off if a bug went awry, so there was not even any staying up all night involved. The Commander had started a network with local citizens on the surface willing to host them. So this mission had them staying overnight at a small inn on the edge of a city. That was a great perk in and of itself.

“Seems simple enough,” Stinger finally said.

“Good, I already signed you two up for it.”

Stinger slowly turned to look at Balance, fixing him with a level glare.

“You’ll thank me later,” Balance added with a cheerful gesture.

Naaga was also staring at Balance. His expression was closer to _really?_ with just a touch of _why are you interfering?_ thrown in. Balance was not Stinger’s biggest fan and while he didn’t actively tell Naaga to dump him or interfere, he also had no problem telling anyone exactly what he thought of Stinger. Some of it was neutral. Most of it was pretty unflattering. Stinger put up with Balance’s jabs because, as utterly irritating as he was, he was Naaga’s friend and had Naaga’s best interests at heart. And Balance was toning his insults way back, especially as more time passed since Scorpio. 

Stinger stood up. “I need to put up the leftover food,” he said.

“Balance,” he heard Naaga say with a slightly distressed note in his voice.

There was not much chili left, so putting up that and the remaining bread and rolls took hardly any time. Balance had already taken off. Kotarou had finished his math problems and had finally moved on to answering the history questions.

“I’m sorry,” Naaga said as he brought his dishes over to the cleaner.

“It’s not your fault,” Stinger replied, leaning against the counter. “Besides, it could be nice.” He exhaled. “I’m kind of tired of being cooped up here.”

Naaga stood next to him, gently nudging him. “At least you’re not on night shift.”

“There is that,” he said.

“Hey, Aniki,” Kotarou asked from the table. “When is the mission?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“So, I don’t—“

“Champ will check your homework.”

Kotarou’s face fell. “He’s even stricter than you!”

“Good. Homework is important.”

Kotarou glowered for a moment, before going back to his last questions.

Stinger just slipped an arm around Naaga’s waist, holding him close for a moment. Naaga went easily and eagerly, tucking himself against his side. Stinger pressed a quick kiss to his temple. He wasn’t worried about the mission—getting away from the ship for a little bit was always nice. He still wasn’t sure how he’d wrangled the weekend off for them to visit the lake cabin. Maybe that had been soon enough after everything that had happened with his brother and Champ and Tsurugi. Maybe Champ had just talked the Commander into saying yes. Then was night shift and now being essentially off all missions. At least this recon mission was straightforward. 

“The mission will be fine,” Stinger said after a pause. “Although why is Balance deciding to help us out? Or, you know, his version of it?”

Naaga wrinkled his nose a little. “I told him today that my relationship was none of his business and I wasn’t listening to his opinion on it anymore, so he needed to be supportive.”

Stinger raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

Naaga looked slightly apologetic. “I was irritated.”

Stinger kissed him soundly for a moment. Naaga looked a little flustered.

“Was that a good thing?” he asked.

“You’re standing up for yourself. That’s a good thing.”

Naaga looked thoughtful for a moment. “I just wanted him to leave me alone about it.”

“That’s what standing up for yourself looks like.” Stinger reached out, smoothing his hair away from his forehead for a moment. Naaga had a small smile on his face.

“Aniki! I’m done!”

Stinger reluctantly left Naaga’s side and went to the table, checking through Kotarou’s homework on his datapad. He’d gotten through everything he was supposed to—finally. “Good,” he said. Kotarou was twitching to get up again. He still had some time before his curfew. (They were calling it a curfew, but it was actually Kotarou’s bedtime. Stinger put together while at Rebellion HQ that Kotarou did a lot better when he had a schedule and a routine to follow, so he’d spent a lot of time since Kotarou officially came back putting together a schedule for him. Raptor didn’t put Kotarou on overnight missions or night shift, so Kotarou went to bed and got up at the same time every day. During the day was school, training exercises or a mission. Evening was dinner and homework. He then had free time before bed. And then there was his bedtime list—just a list of things he needed to get done before bed. They all rotated who went through Kotarou’s list with him.)

“Who’s going through your list with you tonight?” Stinger asked Kotarou.

“Lucky!”

Stinger kept his expression neutral and handed Kotarou his datapad. “Actually brush your teeth, please. Don’t skip stuff just because you can get away with it.”

Kotarou nodded and then jumped up, giving him a hug and speeding out of the galley.

“Good night, Aniki!” he called over his shoulder.

“Night,” he echoed back. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

Naaga came over to him. “Lucky lets him skip things?” he asked, interpreting Stinger’s current irritation. 

“Lucky, Balance and the Commander let him skip things,” Stinger replied. 

“Isn’t Champ tomorrow?”

“Yeah, so everything will take twice as long tomorrow.”

“At least you won’t have to witness it?”

“True.” Stinger rolled his neck. “His list is not that hard. I don’t understand how half of it seems to be a challenge for him.” He paused. “I don’t think I was that scattered as a kid, but now I don’t know.”

Naaga shrugged. “Different planets. I would have done everything without questioning it—that’s how my home planet is.”

Stinger wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, stifling a yawn. “Is it sad I want to go to bed well before the actual kid’s bedtime?”

“No.” Naaga kissed him briefly. 

Yeah, he was probably acting way older than his actual age right now, but he didn’t care. Besides, Champ would make sure Kotarou did his homework and actually brushed his teeth and bathed tomorrow. And Kotarou would do it, because no one really wanted a nearly seven-foot tall bull android upset because the dirty clothes didn’t get put in the laundry bag.

\-------------------

The next afternoon, Stinger double-checked that there were enough leftovers for people to heat up for dinner. (There were plenty.) They gathered the equipment and went down to the surface, leaving their jackets on ORION-gou. Their Rebellion jackets tended to draw the most attention their way, although observant people would know their faces from the Jark Matter wanted posters. Their current location on the surface had summer weather, so they just dressed simply in t-shirts and pants, bringing an overnight bag. They kept their Seiza Blasters and Kyuutamas with them. (Stinger was always surprised how often people overlooked their Seiza Blasters, in spite of the things being very prominent on their arms.)

Raptor had a map with various locations around the city. The governor here had not been defeated, but also had a tenuous grasp over the people. With the Moraimazuus shutting down, the people here had really started to ignore the governor, so he was just shut up in his house. 

There were not any Indaver patrols around as they walked around the city, stopping to plant bugs at places with known Jark Matter activity. Raptor’s list included bugging Jark Matter vehicles that they came across, but some of the vehicles they bugged were not going anywhere except to a junk yard. The bugs would let them listen into the conversation, but also skim signals from various devices. They could gather all kinds of intel that way, especially because a surprising number of the Jark Matter officials had their passwords set to something ridiculous and easy to crack. (Naaga had once said he’d never seen easier accounts to hack than the ones for Jark Matter officials.)

The bugs were planted and the sun was starting to set as they checked into the small inn—seemed to be owned by a local couple and only had a few rooms. One other person was staying that night, a photographer from a resistance group closely aligned with Rebellion. 

“You two make a lovely couple,” the owner was saying, smile on her face.

Stinger didn’t know how to reply, because he was not sure they’d even been acting like a couple when they walked into the front hallway of this place. But Naaga just replied with a soft, “Thank you.”

She handed them a keycard. “Corner room, double bed,” she said, and then with a slightly apologetic shrug, “It’s the biggest bed we have here.”

That was way bigger than their normal bed. She didn’t need to know that.

“We serve breakfast at seven, but I think you two are leaving earlier than that?”

Stinger nodded. “We’re checking out at six.”

She echoed the nod. “If you’re looking for places to eat dinner tonight, I’d recommend the ramen bar down the street. If you don’t mind walking a little further, there’s a decent burger place a few blocks over.”

At least there were food options. 

Their room was cozy—pale blue walls, lower slanted ceiling, windows facing towards the small town, double bed in one corner with a fluffy white duvet. Small bathroom with a tub/shower combination and towels that looked way softer than anything they’d get on ORION-gou. Stinger set the overnight bag on the floor at the foot of the bed, and then dropped his pack onto the bed. Naaga set his own pack on the table in front of the window, and pulled out his datapad. He set the datapad on the table and brought up the feed from the bugs they just planted.

“How’s it look?” Stinger asked.

“Strong signals from all of them. Nothing appears to be out of place.” Naaga looked over the room at him. “None of the vehicles have even moved.”

Stinger just shook his head. “All this fuss for broken down cars.”

“We get to stay here overnight?” Naaga phrased the perk more like a question. Sometimes Stinger swore that the Commander just invented reasons to use their network—like this bug planting mission being an excuse to let someone utilize the inn. Like he thought if they didn’t nurture the people willing to help them, they’d withdraw help in the future. Stinger had been on enough planets to know that was not the case—people hated Jark Matter enough to jump on any tiny bit of subversion. 

Naaga stood up, leaving his datapad on the table with the bugs feed up. He got into Stinger’s space, hands on his neck, pressing a firm kiss to his lips. Stinger wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him as close as possible, and threading his other hand through his hair. He angled him for a deep, messy kiss, plunging into his mouth and staying as dominant as possible. Naaga moaned a little into the kiss, breath hitching, hips moving a little. 

“You want to finish what we started last night?” Stinger asked against his lips.

Naaga flushed a little, cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink. He gently poked Stinger’s side. “You didn’t complain when I said we should pick this up tomorrow because we were both tired.”

“No, I did not complain,” he agreed.

They’d both been yawning, lethargic messes when they finally got back to Stinger’s room last night. Lucky and Garou got sent on a late night check-in on the surface (some place far removed from where Spada, Raptor and Tsurugi were), so Stinger ended up being the one to go through Kotarou’s list with him after all. Even with Naaga and then Hame backing him up, Kotarou still took forever to get through all the items and finally got settled into bed about twenty minutes after his actual bedtime. (Stinger had failed to factor in that Balance had gone through Kotarou’s list with him the day before, which meant lots of stuff was not done.) They’d all been taking turns reading chapters of books with Kotarou before bed and Stinger, remembering his own brother’s refusal to even tuck him in as a small child, was not going to deny Kotarou that, even if he had taken forever to get bathed and brush his teeth.

Champ would straighten out Kotarou tonight.

Stinger pulled Naaga in for another wet kiss, hand running up the back of Naaga’s shirt, feeling soft skin under his touch. Naaga gasped as they broke apart to breathe. He was still flushed, hair fallen into his eyes and chest heaving. He looked utterly gorgeous like this, no inhibitions, just chasing what he wanted. Gods, he was so turned on when Naaga, usually so stoic, just had a look of ecstasy on his face. He stripped Naaga of his shirt and then kissed him again, Naaga mewling into the kiss. “Stinger,” he gasped, fingers tugging at the hem of his shirt.

He backed up enough to remove his own shirt, depositing it somewhere on the floor. He then angled himself mostly sitting down on the bed, pulling Naaga with him. Naaga went easily, straddling his lap. His pressed a kiss to Stinger’s jaw, before they kissed again, this time getting uncoordinated, but still deep and wet and fiery. Stinger nipped his bottom lip as they broke apart. Naaga had a small smile on his face, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. 

“What?” he asked, tone warm, hands running over Naaga’s back. 

Naaga looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’m glad we’re both here,” he finally said.

Stinger just kissed him again.

Naaga could have meant in the inn, at that very moment, but Stinger knew he meant so much more than that. After everything, including Stinger almost dying twice, they were both still alive and together. That fact alone was amazing. Honestly, he knew they’d been given a second chance and he really, really did not want to fuck things up. Naaga had been so happy that he came back that he’d forgiven so much of the hurt and the pain and the anxiety. Naaga just wanted to be close now. They had no idea what was coming with Tsurugi and the Vice Shoguns and Don Armage, so he fully intended to savor every moment like this with Naaga. 

He gently reversed their positions on the bed, pressing Naaga into the mattress. He pressed hot kisses down Naaga’s neck to his collarbone, pulling moans out of Naaga. Luckily, Naaga always had his jacket zipped and shirts that covered up to his neck, meaning the marks that Stinger was sucking onto his skin right now would not be visible to anyone else. Naaga’s back arched and he breathlessly said Stinger’s name. He was flushed from his chest to his face, fine sheen of sweat over his skin. 

“What do you want?” Stinger asked, ducking his head lower and lapping at a nipple. 

Naaga whined. “You,” he gasped. He squirmed under Stinger’s tongue, readiness evident as his hips ground upward, seeking friction. “Inside,” he added.

Stinger quickly unbuckled his belt and then undid his pants. Naaga’s moan became a muffled cry when Stinger reached inside his pants, stroking his length. Gods, Naaga was more than ready. Stinger’s own pants felt uncomfortably tight at this point. They needed to hurry this along or Naaga was not actually getting what he wanted from this round. 

They had already taken their shoes and socks off upon entering the room, so Stinger made short work of removing Naaga’s pants and shorts. Naaga’s hands were on his own belt, so he went to help, ridding himself of the remainder of his clothes quickly. He gently nudged Naaga’s legs apart, settling between them as he came fully back to the bed. Pressing his hips down, their cocks slid together, making both of them gasp. 

“Naaga?” he asked, punctuated with a moan. He reached between their bodies, stroking both of them at once. Naaga’s hips bucked up at the pressure and the friction. 

“Just—“ Another moan, Naaga’s hands scrabbling at his back. “Just keep—“ An incoherent noise as Stinger added more pressure. Naaga moaned, deep in the back of his throat. Stinger lifted his head to kiss him properly, tongue ravishing his mouth and swallowing the delicious noises he was making. “Later,” Naaga finally ground out as Stinger pressed kisses down his neck to his shoulder.

He could feel Naaga’s hands running down his back, and then one hand found where his tail met his back. Stinger scraped his teeth along Naaga’s shoulder, making a desperate noise against his skin. His tail, itself, was not that sensitive, otherwise he’d never be able to use his tail as a weapon. He occasionally wrapped his tail around Naaga when they were sleeping or just laying together, but he generally kept his tail out of their sex life, so he was not even certain how Naaga had discovered that the skin where his tail met his back was sensitive. But Naaga had, and now his fingers were working the skin on his back, just underneath his tail. 

Stinger swore, biting down on Naaga’s shoulder. 

Naaga moaned, fingers working harder into his skin. His other hand was now in Stinger’s hair, tugging him up so they could kiss. Stinger bit his tongue gently when he went to bid for some dominance in the kiss, wound up and on edge from where Naaga’s other hand was. Shivers were running hard down his back, radiating from where Naaga’s fingers were rubbing his skin. Naaga whined into the kiss as he stroked both of them a few more times.

“Stinger, I—“ Whatever Naaga had been about to say bit off by a moan.

He didn’t even have the lube out right now, but he released their cocks to reach further down, finger going to tease at Naaga’s entrance, not actually entering him, just circling him. Naaga moaned again, body tensing as he came hard. Stinger followed him over the edge a moment later, adding to the warm, sticky fluid between their bodies. 

Breathing erratic, he settled next to Naaga on the bed.

That had been over more quickly than he anticipated, but would definitely take the edge off for later that night. 

Naaga’s stomach rumbled softly.

Stinger laughed, one hand going across Naaga’s body to rub his side. “Hungry?” he asked with a soft smile. Naaga was still flushed and just pressed his face to Stinger’s shoulder. He was kind of cute when he was embarrassed about something as simple as being hungry.

“Come on,” Stinger said. “Let’s get cleaned up and go get food. You want to try the ramen bar or the burger place?”

“Don’t you like ramen bars?”

“I do,” he confirmed.

“Then let’s go there.”

They got out of bed and headed for the shower.

\--------------------

Stinger ran a towel over his damp hair. Naaga had gotten as far as drying off and putting on his shorts and pants. (No belt yet, so the pants were riding a little low on hips—no way Stinger was going to complain about that gorgeous sight.) Stinger was just in his shorts and working on getting some of the extra water out of his hair. The shower here was actually pretty spacious and had way better water pressure than anything back on the ship. 

Naaga was sitting on the end of the bed, datapad in his lap, watching the bug feed with a slight frown on his face. Stinger hung up the towel in the bathroom, running his fingers through his hair. Good enough. He walked into the room, sitting next to Naaga on the bed. “Everything accounted for?” A quick nod and Naaga handed the data pad to him. Naaga got up, searching through their discarded clothes for his belt. 

Stinger watched the feed for a moment. Everything seemed to be fine. All the bugs they’d planted were sending a strong signal. Bugs got broken or lost power all the time, hence planting new ones, so losing some over a period of time was not unusual. But these were all brand new, and seemed to be operating in peak condition. 

Naaga had found his belt and put said belt on, but he then came to sit slightly behind Stinger on the bed, one arm around his waist, lips pressing hot kisses to his neck and shoulder. Stinger turned slightly one direction, giving him more access. He wrapped his tail around Naaga’s waist, pulling him even closer to his back. He could feel Naaga smile against his skin.

“I thought you wanted to go eat,” he said softly, tone warm.

“I want to feed you so you’re not grouchy when things heat up later.”

Now Naaga was definitely teasing, because he replied with, “You promise?”

“To fuck you into the mattress and make you scream after dinner? Definitely.”

Naaga huffed a small laugh. “I believe you,” he murmured.

Stinger was really starting to enjoy the open-mouthed kisses being pressed against his shoulder, when he suddenly felt Naaga prop his chin on his shoulder and point to the datapad.

“That bug’s moving where it shouldn’t be.”

Stinger followed his gesture and tapped on that bug to bring up just that bug’s feed. That had been planted on a Jark Matter vehicle they had flagged as broken down. And now the vehicle was very clearly moving towards the out-of-commission Moraimazuu in the area. 

“Could just be some locals,” Naaga said.

Stinger rolled his neck. “Hopefully.”

“We still need to check on it.” Naaga sounded a touch frustrated, but mostly resigned. He stood up, going to his pack for a fresh t-shirt. Stinger missed his warmth pressed against his back. But he needed to finish dressing now too. He found his pants and shirt from earlier, and redressed quickly. They both put on their shoes and socks, and then their Seiza Blasters. 

The sun had already set as they left the room, Stinger shoving the keycard into his pants pocket. The inn was eerily quiet, but with just the owners and one other guest, Stinger figured that was not too unusual. Naaga had transferred the bug’s signal to his Seiza Blaster, so they were walking a relatively straight route from the inn to the Moraimazuu. 

The town was quiet this late at night, bathed in bright starlight. The place was out of the way, but close enough to a big city for resources, that perfect blend of city life and quiet countryside. Stinger hadn’t thought recently, outside of the dreams, about where they might want to settle down eventually, but he liked the idea of a place like this—lots of green and hills and water. He did not want to go back to the desert. 

They had gotten about halfway to the Moraimazuu, walking close together in the starlight, when he heard the unmistakable sound of an Indaver patrol. They hadn’t seen any of those patrols while walking around all day, so what the hell was one doing around at night? When there was really nothing to see and no one to harass? 

Stinger grabbed Naaga’s hand and they dashed out of the center of the street, to a dark alley between two buildings. Naaga peered around the building and then nudged Stinger. He followed Naaga’s gaze and then blinked.

The patrol was two Indavers. 

Carrying to-go bags of food.

Right. Governor shut up in his house.

But the Indavers had a flashlight with them.

So Stinger did the only thing he could think of that would draw attention away from the fact that they were Kyuurangers and hopefully make the Indavers just walk past so they would not have to engage them. (Not that two Indavers was a problem for them—in fact, that was relatively easy—but avoiding a fight at night in a small town like this with a weakened Jark Matter presence would keep continued Jark Matter attention away from the place.)

He wrapped both arms around Naaga’s waist, pulled him close and kissed him.

He felt Naaga freeze with confusion for a moment, but then relax against him, understanding the ruse, hands going to his shoulders, enthusiastically responding to the kiss. 

A flashlight beam waved over them. They broke apart. Stinger’s arm with his Seiza Blaster was behind Naaga’s back, and Naaga’s was on Singer’s shoulder not facing the patrol. 

“Hey!” one of the Indavers called. “Almost curfew. You kids get home.”

Either the Indaver really didn’t care or they looked suitably apologetic at being caught, because the Indavers then continued down the street, not even checking to see that they were going anywhere. Stinger let out a long breath, smiling a little as Naaga went to kiss him again. “Good to know that even Jark Matter can decide not to give a shit about their job,” Stinger muttered.

They took a moment to just breath. 

“It’s kind of peaceful like this,” Naaga said softly as they walked out of the alley and back towards the Moraimazuu, hugging one side of the street. 

“Yes,” Stinger agreed. “You see places like this and realize they were really nice once.”

“It’s still nice here.”

Stinger nodded.

“We should come back when we’re not on a mission.”

“That would be good.” He paused. “We also need to go camping again.”

Naaga nodded.

There was so much they wanted to do, but everything seemed to be frozen in time, like they’d never get past their current point, stuck with Rebellion, fighting as Kyuurangers forever. Everything he could picture was just some vague point _after_. 

His Seiza Blaster buzzed with a message. He read the text quickly and then glanced at the time. Naaga looked over at him, inquiring. “Kotarou’s in bed,” Stinger explained. “And Champ managed to get him there fifteen minutes early.”

Naaga had a small smile. “He’s good at that.”

“He’s tall and intimidating. Kotarou isn’t intimidated by the rest of us.”

“He knows what lines not to cross with you.”

“Yeah, but I still let him get away with a lot.”

Naaga nudged him gently. “He respects you.” A pause and then, “You’re very caring with him.”

Stinger was quiet for a moment. There were just some things from his childhood that still grated at him and he was not going to put Kotarou through those things. Like Kotarou’s worn out stuffed monkey that he was simultaneously embarrassed about but couldn’t fall asleep without. Stinger never said anything (and neither did anyone else), but he just made sure Kotarou had the monkey as he got into bed. Or the fact that Kotarou was a Kyuuranger and extremely mature in some ways, but was still a kid and got scared and wanted to be hugged and comforted. Occasionally, Kotarou had nightmares about the Jark Matter occupancy in his hometown. And Stinger did not care if Kotarou woke him in the middle of the night because he was frightened of the dreams. (Kotarou knew to message him—the alerts for Naaga and Kotarou were different, loud and annoying, so Stinger woke up immediately.) 

He and Naaga were still procrastinating a little bit about moving into the same room. Part of that was the pain in the ass factor—the furniture on the ship was fastened to the floor with what amounted to extremely strong magnets. A special tool was needed to move the furniture. Neither one of them had that much stuff and they were always living in the same room anyways, and they had talked about moving into the same space. Agreed on that, even. Then the timing just kept not working out.

“We have tomorrow morning off,” Stinger said softly as they approached the Moraimazuu. “Maybe we should finish moving everything. Get the extra furniture from storage.” The stuff left in Naaga’s old room belonged to both of them, so no one was innocent in that.

Naaga nodded, looking very pleased with the plan. He hated chaos in his living space and their stuff being split between two spaces was making it very hard for them to contain the chaos. They tried, but there was always a certain amount of going between spaces. 

Naaga kissed him briefly, unspoken but there, _“Yes please.”_

The formerly broken down vehicle was parked in front of the Moraimazuu. 

Some people were moving from the vehicle to the Moraimazuu.

“Civilians,” Naaga confirmed.

“Let’s get the bug off the car and get out of here.”

Stinger approached the car, followed closely by Naaga. He reached under the rear bumper and yanked the bug off the car. 

“Who’s there?”

Stinger shoved the bug quickly in his pocket and held up his hands, emphasizing the Seiza Blaster, Naaga doing the same. “Calm down. Kyuuranger. Not Jark Matter. Just collecting our bug since you guys are clearly using this vehicle.”

Flashlights shone over both their faces and Stinger blinked. 

The guy with the flashlight clearly recognized them. “Oh. Hi. Thanks.”

“What are you all using the car and the Moraimazuu for?” Naaga asked as they dropped their hands and prepared to walk back to the inn. 

“Oh. The battery was just dead in the car. Good car.” He shrugged. “Seems weird but abandoned Jark Matter places make good places to lay low.”

“You all from around here?” Stinger said. When the guy nodded, he continued with, “You recommend the ramen bar or the burger place?”

Naaga could not quite hide his disbelief and slight amusement. 

“Ramen bar, for sure,” was the reply. “Open late. Owner is really nice. She figures out you’re Kyuurangers, she’ll feed you for free and send you home with tons of food.”

They thanked the guy and headed back down the street. Naaga turned off the bug and silenced the feed, double-checking the other bugs. 

At least that had been easy.

\--------------------

When the alarm went off the next morning, Naaga groaned and hit the snooze, snuggling closer to Stinger. He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him closer, letting out a sleepy exhale. They’d stayed up way too late last night and Stinger really regretted nothing. The ramen bar owner had only let them pay with the stipulation that they bring the entire team back to her restaurant and let her treat everyone. (Even then, she didn’t charge them full price.) 

“They can get breakfast themselves,” Naaga muttered.

Stinger snorted softly. “Have you seen Lucky in the kitchen? He will melt everything trying to make toast.”

And when they’d gotten back from the ramen bar, Stinger had done exactly what he promised he’d do to Naaga. Who had thoroughly enjoyed every minute.

Stinger ran a hand down Naaga’s side, feeling him shiver under his touch.

“You want a repeat of last night?” Naaga asked, still clearly half-asleep.

Stinger made a satisfied humming noise. “Of course,” he said, tone warm and amused. “The things you were doing with your tongue should be illegal.”

That statement woke Naaga up a little more, because he flushed, the same adorable shade of pink as the day before, and buried his face against Stinger’s chest. “You’re one to talk,” he replied, voice muffled as he tried to cuddle even closer. “Your tail got involved last night.”

“I needed a third limb so I improvised.” Stinger kissed the top of his head. “You loved it.”

Naaga nodded against his skin, flush creeping to his ears and neck. 

“You’re fucking adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

Naaga shifted against him, poking his side gently. “Be quiet,” he muttered.

“Hey,” Stinger cupped one hand on his cheek, gently lifting his head so they were looking at each other. Naaga was flushed, expression shy yet pleased. “I’m game for anything you want in bed—so don’t feel embarrassed about any of it.”

“I’m not,” Naaga replied. “It’s just still… unusual… to talk about it.”

Stinger pulled him close for a moment, just letting the early morning noises and the beginning sunrise wash over them. He kissed Naaga’s forehead. “I love you,” he said softly. “You are so damn amazing.”

Naaga pulled back to look at him. He smiled a little. “You really mean that because you’re swearing while saying it.” He closed the small space between them, kissing him soundly. “I love you too,” he murmured against his lips. 

“Still up for moving furniture today?” Stinger asked idly.

“Yes. I don’t care how tired we are, that needs to get done.”

“You’re on.”

Later, in the galley on the ship, Hame gave him a level look and just said, “Pretty sure you just heated all this up.”

“You’re eating it, aren’t you?” he replied with an equally level look.

“I like it!” Kotarou chimed in.

And getting the extra furniture and moving the rest of their things did not take nearly as much time as he thought. To the point that they had plenty of time to finish the laundry and then catch a quick nap before he had to go fix lunch.

He always felt like a dark cloud was hanging in the background, ready to strike, but he pushed the darkness away. Right now, he was content and he was focusing on that. The uncertainty could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The show seriously does not give me enough of Stinger being Kotarou's older brother! Still a few hours away from a new episode, so we shall see if I can put out some more fluff or if we will be headed back onto the angst train. (I believe the movie just came out and all I have to say is: 1. Helmet-less walking around is always appreciated, and 2. Legendary popcorn party.
> 
> Thank you to everyone for continuing to read, kudos and comment! I'm glad you're all still with me and you're enjoying reading this endeavor of mine! I love your comments and hearing from you! (You can send me messages over on tumblr too!) You all are lovely and the best! Let me know you're out there every so often and if there's anything you'd like to see! (Fair warning: I have a vision for the forthcoming angst train.) 
> 
> Depending on the preview for next week, this might be a 10-day ish update for the next chapter. Stay tuned folks! Peace out and have a fabulous week!


	17. Don't Have to Change a Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naaga felt... empty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after episode 25, major spoilers therein. Don't read until you watch. 
> 
> Here we go with Angst Hard!

**17/ Don’t Have to Change a Thing**   
_And you don’t have to change a thing, the world could change its heart._

“Come on, Kotarou. You need to be sleeping.”

“One more chapter?”

“Kotarou.”

“Please?”

Stinger let out a long breath. Lucky was supposed to have been the one going through Kotarou’s list with him tonight, but Stinger decided to take over. Yeah, Lucky could sympathize with losing one’s parents at a young age, but he was also prone to loud outbursts in an attempt to cheer people up. Kotarou needed a little more calm after everything on Tocky, so Stinger just told Lucky he’d take care of things and pushed Lucky towards the rec room where Tsurugi was teaching everyone some ridiculously complicated card game that Stinger thought was stupid.

They’d all gotten back to the ship and eaten a late dinner. Which put Kotarou pretty much at his bedtime, if he would ever settle down. He’d picked up all his things, showered and brushed his teeth, and was currently lying in bed. He was holding his monkey to his side, under the covers, but still pretty much wide awake. Stinger had already read one chapter of the book.

“Kotarou,” he replied evenly and calmly. He put the datapad aside. He was sitting on the edge of Kotarou’s bed. “What’s wrong?”

Kotarou looked away from him, jaw set as he stared at the wall. He turned back to Stinger, and he realized he’d been trying to hide tears. “I didn’t know how much I missed Okaa-san until I saw her again.”

“It’s okay to miss people who are gone,” Stinger comforted him. He reached out, brushing Kotarou’s hair away from his forehead. With Kotarou, the gesture was friendly, parenting, affectionate. Unlike with Naaga, where the simple motion betrayed so much intimacy. 

“Do you miss your parents?”

The question was startling. For most of his life, no one asked Stinger about his parents. As a child, the others in their village knew they had died and did not ask questions, trying to not mention such an ugly thing in a small child’s life. During military training and leaving Needle, he was an adult and the galaxy had finally erupted into the chaos that Jark Matter had been threatening for centuries. No one thought to ask an adult about his parents, no matter how benign the question. 

“I haven’t seen them in a long time,” Stinger answered honestly.

Kotarou sniffed, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. “Where are they?”

“They died when I was a child.”

“How old?”

“Much younger than you are now.”

Stinger felt a surge of affection for Kotarou. The kid was still hurting about his parents—his younger brother lived with their uncle—and then all the adults who failed him, wouldn’t stand up to Jark Matter, wouldn’t try to make things better for the future. Kotarou had blinked away the tears and was looking at him with interest. He had forgotten that he really only told Naaga these things. Even Champ did not know about his parents. 

“Did your older brother raise you?”

“He did,” Stinger confirmed.

Kotarou’s nose wrinkled slightly. “Was he mean?”

And the question made sense, coming from Kotarou and remembering what Kotarou knew of Scorpio. Stinger just shook his head. “Not then, not to me.” He paused, and then, “He was also off planet a lot, because he joined the military when he turned twenty-one. I didn’t see him that often after that.”

“Who took care of you?”

Stinger ruffled Kotarou’s hair. “What’s with all the questions tonight?”

Kotarou shrugged. “You don’t talk about your childhood. It’s interesting.”

Interesting was not necessarily the word Stinger would have used to describe his childhood.

But still, unbidden, a memory came to Stinger. 

He had been a small child when his parents died, and he usually just said generically that they both died when he was young. Which was true, but distorting the actual timeline. He did not remember his mother at all—she died when he was about a year old, from a spore-based disease called Dragonscale. Highly contagious, the infected were sent to a quarantine zone in the middle of the desert. There was no cure or treatment. Anyone with the disease died. A Dragonscale outbreak was the only thing they feared more than rogue bands and desert rats. 

He had vague memories of his father. He’d been four years old when his father died—his father had fought on the night watch and took a poisoned arrow from a band of marauders one night. But the memory… he must have been almost four at the time. He’d done something to himself—fallen while playing? His father was carrying him to the mess tent for dinner. He remembered still sniffling while his father carried him, comforted by the fact that his father was taking care of him. Scorpio had been walking in front of them, fifteen or sixteen at the time. 

_“I don’t understand why you baby him. He’s going to grow up weak.”_

_“He’s a child, Scorpio. You went through the same things.”_

_“None of the other children cry like he does.”_

_“None of the other children lost their mother as young as he did. Have some sympathy, Scorpio. You were old enough to process what happened. Stinger wasn’t.”_

_“He’s weak. He’s going to get us all killed.”_

_“That’s enough, Scorpio. He’s your brother. I don’t want to hear you talk like that again.”_

But that ugly sneer as Scorpio stalked off into the mess tent ahead of them… why did that expression seem so cruel, so condescending? Sure, kids were annoying, but that went beyond mere annoyance and into something darker, uglier. 

_“I never thought I’d have to protect you from your own brother.”_

At least Scorpio had not been openly cruel to him when he was a child. Instead, Scorpio protected him at all costs, taking out all his rage on the people that dared try something with his brother. On some level, Stinger believed that his brother knew what was right, but was too tempted by power. In the end, Scorpio had ended up protecting him, all of them. His brother took on Antares and then defended them, making sure he continued to live. No one who was truly evil would do that. 

“I lived in a small village on a desert planet,” Stinger finally responded to Kotarou. “I’m not sure how interesting that actually is.”

“Did Jark Matter take over your home planet?”

He nodded. “They did, but only a few years ago.”

Kotarou let out a long breath. “Jark Matter had always controlled Earth, for as long as anyone can remember. Sometimes we didn’t have enough food because Jark Matter didn’t hand out the rations.” His lower lip trembled. “My mom couldn’t get medicine because the hospital was only for Jark Matter.”

“Your mother would be proud of you.”

“Really?” Kotarou looked hopeful at the statement.

“Yes. You took care of Jirou for a long time, and now you’re saving the galaxy.” Stinger leaned back against the headboard of the bed a little. “That’s a lot for anyone.” He took a deep breath. “Believe me, everyone who you’ve lost is proud of you.”

Kotarou smiled a little. “I think your parents would be proud of you.”

Stinger looked at Kotarou, wondering where the comment came from. He’d never before in his life considered what his parents might think of him. Hell, he’d never even tried to imagine a childhood where neither of his parents died and he grew up with both of them. A small part of him wished he remembered his mother. He had nothing of her—no pictures or possessions. Something might exist on his home planet, but he did not want to look at his razed home village.

But Makino-baachan, his caretaker when his brother was off planet, only told him about his mother once. She had apparently been a strong warrior in her own right, working to train young guards in their village. She’d wanted lots of children, but ended up with only Scorpio and Stinger. She hadn’t thought Stinger would happen. When he was a baby, other people in the village accused her of coddling him, but she didn’t care. He was the second baby she thought she’d never have. _“She loved you so much, and everyone was devastated when the ‘scale took her.”_ Scorpio never talked about her, and he’d remember her. He’d been thirteen when she died.

And his father… he had vague memories of him, nothing concrete. At least nothing that he was ever sure was real, rather than a dream. In the winter, desert nights got cold and he remembered being small, and curling up with his father and his stuffed bear. (The bear that then went missing shortly after his father died.) He remembered his father’s hands guiding his own as he learned how to properly chop up the tinder for a fire. Oddly, he didn’t really remember Scorpio until after his father died. That’s when the memories of his brother really began. His father seemed larger than life, but he now knew that’s because he had been a small child. 

Would they actually be proud of him? Would they want him to keep fighting to save the galaxy? Would they be proud he was a Kyuuranger? Happy for him and Naaga? He had no idea what they would want for him. 

“I don’t remember them,” he said haltingly. “I don’t know what they would want for me.”

“I think they’d want you to be happy.” Kotarou’s expression belied disbelief that Stinger would even question what his parents would have wanted for him. As far as Kotarou was concerned, everyone’s parents were like his mom—kind and caring and wanting their children to be happy.

“Your mom would want you to be happy too,” Stinger replied. He stood up. “You need to be sleeping now,” he added.

Kotarou wrinkled his nose again, but allowed himself to be tucked in further. He shifted under the blankets, pulling his stuffed monkey closer to his chest. Stinger picked up Kotarou’s datapad and put the device on the charging station on his desk. He turned out the nightstand lamp, plunging the room into semi-darkness. 

“Stinger?” Kotarou asked he was headed for the door.

He paused, turning back slightly. “What?”

“Do you think the people who are gone are really gone?”

The question made him remember old stories and legends from his home village. He didn’t know if he believed any of those stories any more, and he often wondered if the dead were truly gone, if they could see the living. He had no answers. 

“I don’t know,” he replied. “But I think the dead are never truly gone, as long as someone remembers them.”

Kotarou nodded, clearly turning over the statement in his head. “Good night, Aniki,” he mumbled.

“Good night,” he echoed. 

He stood in the hallway outside Kotarou’s room for a long time. True natures had a funny way of coming out, no matter what. Even if his parents hadn’t died, he was not sure that anything would have turned out differently with Scorpio. 

But that was now the past. 

And there was no point in dwelling on the past. He needed to look towards the future.

\--------------------

Naaga pulled his legs to his chest, resting his head against the window in the room.

He felt… empty.

When Tsurugi had said that time was not aligned on Tocky and that memories would appear before them, Naaga had tried to think of what would appear for him. Lucky, Stinger and Hame arrived at their keys first, and reported what anyone would expect—Elidron, Scorpio and Gonessy. Those were all important defeats in their recent memories, things that held a lot of significance for them. Of course, for Stinger, the memory was a loved one that became a battle. Even now, Stinger still had nightmares about the Jark Matter invasion of his planet and their systemic slaughter of everyone he had known. Finally being able to separate his past from Scorpio’s current state and working with the others to defeat him had been a huge moment for Stinger, no matter how much the moment hurt. 

Knowing who appeared for three of them, he’d thought through important moments for him. Perhaps the odd birthday-stealing governor, To-me, would show up for him? Maybe his memory would just be something with Stinger? Or maybe even meeting Balance and becoming a thief? He felt like he really had not done much of note until meeting Balance and deciding to go against every instinct from birth and start stealing from Jark Matter. A lot of the firsts in his life recently had been with Stinger, so the closer he got to the key, the more he was convinced he wouldn’t need to fight, because his memory would not be Jark Matter, and would just be someone close to him.

And then he’d approached the key.

No one appeared.

He momentarily pushed aside the anxiety that grew as he walked up to the key and turned the key, no interference from anyone or anything. How? The others all had a memory or person appearing for them? Some of the memories were good. Some were embarrassing. Most were things they’d eventually needed to overcome. 

He had as much to remember as the others. Why had nothing appeared for him?

_“Naaga! So who showed up for you? For me, it was you, buddy! So does that mean I showed up for you?”_

Balance had the key next to his, and had clearly gotten through his obstacle quickly. He met Naaga at his own key. A piece of him was not surprised that he had appeared for Balance. They were thieves together for months, and best friends. Balance was really the only other person, besides Stinger, who knew him well. And Balance was old, had known lots of people, but Naaga was the most important relationship to him at that moment. He should have been touched by Balance revealing that, but instead, he just felt his fear grow.

_“When I arrived here, there was no one waiting. Does this mean I have no heart?”_

His stomach and chest were so tight at that point, he felt like he might throw up. Balance had quickly clapped his shoulder. _“I’m sure it means nothing!”_ Balance had protested cheerfully. _“Tsurugi said time was all wonky. Some of the others probably had nothing appear too!”_ Then Balance had noted that he looked really pale and a little shaky. Balance had offered to carry him on his back to where the Commander was, since they still needed him to turn his key and then get to the rendezvous point. Naaga had almost forgotten that they did that—Balance ran much faster than Naaga, and even carrying Naaga, he was still way faster. Balance would carry him on his back to get away after heists, just because they could go quicker and avoid any Jark Matter authorities. 

The nostalgia made him feel a little better. Until they reached the Commander.

Shou Lonpou’s memory was Big Bear. And they were sitting around, having a drink and laughing about old times. The memory looked cheerful and fun and definitely something that the Commander was enjoying reliving. Naaga felt his heart drop as Balance put him down. 

_“They’re having fun. And yet I—“_

_“Don’t worry about it!”_ Balance had responded. _“I’ll hurry him up.”_

Balance had then scrambled down the hill to the Commander and just said, _“Commander! Sorry to rain on the parade, but you’re bumming Naaga out! Get a move on!”_

He’d tried to quell his fear, especially once they got the new Kyuutama and got back to the ship. The others were laughing and telling stories about their memories over dinner. Some were serious and sad, like Stinger’s and Kotarou’s. Others were funny, like Garou’s. Naaga had kept quiet, moving around his dinner on his plate, not really eating anything. His stomach hurt. Stinger noticed during dinner that he wasn’t eating and gave him a sidelong look, brow furrowed in concern. A part of him did not want to tell Stinger what had happened to him on Tocky. He was too afraid of what that meant. 

He was really afraid that he was empty.

All this time, with both Stinger and Balance, had he just been going through the motions? Had he just been doing what he thought was the right thing but really had no ulterior motivation, no sense that told him Jark Matter was wrong? He didn’t think so, because he’d been horrified at their take-over of his home planet, destroying the serenity they had built. He’d decided to join Balance to be a thief because stealing things from them would hurt Jark Matter, no matter how small. And as much as Balance liked treasure, he also liked helping people, so a lot of their spoils went to people also hurt by Jark Matter, people barely surviving. Why would he have done any of that if he was empty inside? If he didn’t actually have a heart?

He raked a hand through his hair, trying to take a deep breath. He failed, the breath shaking and shuddering a few times, leaving him more out of breath than he when he began. His chest still felt tight and his stomach roiled unpleasantly. He’d not really eaten anything at dinner and his stomach was still threatening to revolt. 

And everything with Stinger… all of that was so important to him. He loved Stinger, didn’t he? How could he fake affection for someone? He supposed that people could fake affection for each other and likely did all the time, but he didn’t have enough experience to bluff his way through a relationship with Stinger, and why would he even want to? Stinger was the first one on the ship to actually listen to him, answer his questions, not treat him like an afterthought or a joke. (The others didn’t mean to do those things to him and didn’t even realize they did so, but he still felt lonely and weird when someone brushed off a genuine question.) Stinger just listened with no judgment and he felt accepted, like a person, when Stinger was around. That was why he’d stopped and tried to take care of Stinger after their defeat of Madaako. (Or, what they had thought was her defeat, before they learned the truth.) Stinger had done so much for him by just being there, that he wanted to make sure that he took care of himself and got the rest he needed to recover.

And he’d tried, before he and Stinger kissed the first time, to figure out what his feelings were. He thought he knew all about friendship from Balance, but he’d seen people that were more to each other and he did not know what that feeling was. He was suspecting he felt more for Stinger, like a constant ache in his chest, wanting to spend time with him, touch him. He’d stumbled across some things on kissing when trying to figure things out—he’d seen others do that and had not understood what it was supposed to be. But all signs indicated it was pleasant. And it turned out to be.

Would he have even had sex with Stinger if he felt nothing?

Would he have said he loved him if he had no heart?

Nothing made sense and the more the others talked about their memories, the more scared he got. And that was it, wasn’t it? Scared. If he felt nothing, then why did he feel scared? He knew that was what he was feeling. Chest tight, stomach roiling, waves of anxiety rolling up and down his spine. 

Stinger had gone to put Kotarou to bed, and should be back any moment. Naaga wanted Stinger here, wanted him close. At the same time, he wanted some distance between them, because he was too afraid, too ashamed, of what this meant. 

Balance had said it meant nothing.

Sure felt like this meant something.

The door opened and Stinger walked into the room. He was frowning slightly, eyes a little bit distant, still clearly lost in thought. 

Naaga turned to him. Maybe if Stinger was distracted with something that would delay him asking what was upsetting Naaga. Then he wondered why he wanted to hide something from Stinger, except that he knew he was terrified, didn’t want Stinger to think less of him, think he wasn’t human. He just wanted… he wasn’t sure. Just wanted Stinger to love him? Something to forget about Tocky and everything that had happened today?

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Stinger blinked, turning towards him. His expression softened a little and he crossed the room to join Naaga in the window seat. Naaga unfolded his legs so that their knees touched. Outside, everything was black and dusted with stars. Everything had been so chaotic lately. He remembered those moments with Stinger, just being, looking at the stars or the trees or the sky. Watching a campfire. Those times were peaceful and calming. Everything Naaga felt the opposite of right now.

“Kotarou asked me about my parents,” he said.

“He did?” Naaga blinked. Stinger had told Naaga about his parents, the little he knew, when they died and how. He really didn’t remember much about them—nothing of his mother and very little of his father. His caretaker had always said they loved him very much. Naaga did not hold such fond memories of his own parents. Children were designed and placed with eligible couples on his planet—two children per couple. He supposed he technically had a younger sister. But because he was raised with no emotions and had already gone on to job training when Jark Matter invaded, he felt almost nothing for his family. They’d provided structure, sure, and raised him, but he did not feel about them like he did Stinger or Balance or everyone else on the ship.

“He’s hurting about his mom,” Stinger replied softly. “I’d never thought about it before, but he said that my parents would be proud of me and want me to be happy.”

“Isn’t that what parents want for their children?” Naaga was sure that the question was a little obvious, but even on his home planet, that was generally what parents wanted for their children. Granted, his home planet would have leaned more towards finding a skill that suited them. He’d seen that in his travels and on the planets they’d visited. Even in the brief moments where he thought about having a family with Stinger or a child, he’d thought he’d want those things for their child. Why would he not? There was something ill-willed and cruel about wishing bad things for children.

Why would he have no heart if he could have those thoughts?

“The good ones, yes,” Stinger replied with a tiny smile. 

Naaga nudged him a little. “Then it’s safe to assume that about your parents.”

Stinger looked wistful. “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

Softly, “Just that she died when you were one.”

“Yeah. My caretaker told me a story about her once. She was a warrior, one of the fiercest in our village. When I was military training, they still told stories about her.” He paused, letting out a long breath, eyes bright. “She wanted lots of children, but after Scorpio, none seemed to happen. She really thought she would only have one child, and then I was born.” He smiled a little. “I wish I remembered her. But they used to say she was coddling me.” He shrugged. “I was a baby. My caretaker just said that she was so excited to have a second child.” He sighed. “And then she died.”

“She loved you very much,” Naaga whispered.

“Sometimes I think about going back to Needle. I had a footlocker with a lot of family things. Aniki just left it there and didn’t do much with it. I didn’t think about it. But I sometimes wonder if that footlocker survived.” He exhaled. “I don’t really know what’s in it, but I hope something of my parents.”

Naaga reached out and took his hand, threading their fingers together. He didn’t understand the nostalgia for home like Stinger did, but if he thought about being here and everything the last few months meant to him, he guessed that the others felt like that about their childhoods and whole lives. 

He felt a pang of anxiety. Was that the reason? Everyone else had emotions and memories and attachments from their whole lives. His had really started when he met Balance, but in earnest when he became a Kyuuranger and met Stinger. How could he even catch up to everyone? There was no way to make up all that time, form childhood memories or attachments. He was just left with what he had recently. He’d thought that was enough, but now… now, he wasn’t sure.

“What’s bothering you?” Stinger asked, changing the subject and squeezing his hand a little.

Naaga looked back towards the window. 

“You didn’t eat much at dinner,” Stinger continued. “You’ve been tense since we got back from Tocky.” He paused, thumb running over Naaga’s knuckles. “Did something happen on Tocky?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Naaga replied softly.

Stinger looked concerned, and Naaga was not sure how to tell him that it was not that something happened on Tocky. It was that nothing happened on Tocky.

“I will,” he added, turning to look at Stinger. “Just not yet.”

“Okay,” Stinger nodded, looking sympathetic. “That’s fair.”

Naaga let out a shuddering breath, just wanting to be close to Stinger. He wanted to forget for a while about the planet and what had happened and all his fear and anxiety.   
He moved into Stinger’s space, pressing his lips to his in a long, chaste kiss. Stinger responded immediately, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him closer, legs over his lap. Naaga went easily and quickly, relishing the warm of Stinger’s body, the closeness. Stinger ran his tongue over his lips and he opened immediately, gasping, shiver of pleasure running down his spine at the deeper kiss. His hands were on Stinger’s shoulders as they broke apart briefly. Stinger ran a hand through his hair, thumb stroking across his cheekbone for a moment. Naaga closed the small space, starting their next kiss. This one was wet and messy, tongues running against one another. Stinger scraped his teeth gently across his bottom lip as they broke apart.

He was flushed and breathing heavily. Stinger’s eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide with lust. He looked sleepy and predatory and that was pretty much what Naaga wanted. The fingers in his hair were tugging a little as Stinger pressed hot kisses from his jaw to his neck. He tilted his head, giving him more access. “I think we’ll be more comfortable on the bed,” Stinger purred against his throat.

He tried to speak, but the words just came out as a noise of affirmation. 

Stinger raised his head, lazy smile growing. He moved Naaga’s legs out of his lap and stood up, grabbing Naaga’s hands to pull him up. He shivered a little. They were dressed for bed—and now that Naaga was focusing on him, the shirt Stinger was wearing was actually one of his. (Stinger did not own a gray t-shirt.) He kept their hands clasped as Stinger led him across the room, then his fingers were on the hem of his shirt, pulling the clothing up and over his head. Stinger then removed his own shirt, moving fluidly back into Naaga’s space, hands warm on his skin, catching him in another open-mouthed fiery kiss, forcing him back towards the bed a little. 

Naaga moaned into the kiss. This was always so good.

His legs hit the edge of the bed. Stinger got an arm around his waist and, in one movement, they were both laying on the bed. Naaga’s breath came out in a huff. Stinger had one leg between his, bracing himself above him on one arm. His other hand threaded through Naaga’s hair again, the gesture soft and simple. Stinger looked at him affectionately for a moment. Naaga loved that expression, loved feeling that way when Stinger looked at him. He wanted those things from Stinger as much as he wanted to give those things to him. 

Naaga shivered again. How could he want to give and get that kind of affection if he felt nothing? How could the planet have read no memories from him? Nothing at all?

Stinger untied the drawstring of his pants, standing briefly to remove them completely, and then shed his own pants. Naaga tilted his head back, hitting the pillow and whining in anticipation. Stinger came back to the bed, gently nudging his legs further apart. Naaga moved eagerly, making room for Stinger, feeling himself get completely hard. He was flushed, sweating a little at this point. Sometimes they took their time with this part, getting ready he supposed. (There are another word Stinger had used for it, but he couldn’t really remember, because he really just wanted Stinger’s hands on him at this point.) Stinger leaned over him, kissing him soundly once more.

He reached over and pulled open the nightstand drawer, grabbing the lube without looking. (The only nightstand in here with a drawer—the other “nightstand” was actually a small table.) Stinger was smiling, a small laugh coming out of him. “Eager?” he whispered against Naaga’s lips.

He ducked his head, pressing a hot kiss to his collarbone, sucking on the skin there. Naaga made an incredibly embarrassing noise, fingers threading through Stinger’s hair. Stinger took the lube from, pressing kisses down his chest. When he raised his head, he was still smiling a little. He opened the lube and poured some over three fingers. Naaga drew in a ragged breath. Yes, this is what he wanted. He deliberating pushed all thoughts of the planet out of his mind as Stinger gently circled him, spreading the lube around and then gently started to work one fingers inside him. Naaga exhaled shakily, attempting to grind down on the fingers, hips moving involuntarily. 

Stinger pressed a hand to his stomach, trying to get him to relax, lie back. “Stinger,” he breathed, body still trying to arch against the hand holding him still. 

“It’s okay,” Stinger murmured. “Patience.” He had worked that entire finger inside of him, and was gently moving in and out. Naaga closed his eyes, leaning back against the pillow again. Stinger crooked his fingers just right and stars exploded behind his eyes. He moaned, deep in the back of his throat. 

As Stinger began to work a second finger in, his eyes opened. The planet was gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. He tried to push all the fear away. He wanted to concentrate on what was happening in front of him. He loved having sex with Stinger. They did this frequently. Before they’d started having sex, he wondered why people had sex as often as his research claimed. Now he understood the answer to that was simple—it felt good. He reached out, threading his fingers through Stinger’s hair. Stinger got the hint and leaned over him, pressing their lips together. 

When Stinger pulled back, he frowned a little.

And then he removed his fingers. _No,_ Naaga wanted to choke. _I need to feel that. Keep going._

“Naaga,” he said softly, thumb tracing his cheekbone. “What’s wrong?”

He turned his head away on the pillow, not meeting Stinger’s gaze. He could lie and say everything was fine, but Stinger would see through that. Stinger was nodding slightly. “Okay,” he added and then easily swung himself over Naaga, so he was no longer between his legs and next to him.

Naaga’s legs were shaking as he drew them together, suddenly feeling exposed. He was fine with being naked when that was what they were supposed to be doing—having sex, bathing or showering, even changing clothes. But now, he hated this feeling, arousal fading. Stinger seemed to sense his discomfort and drew the covers up to their middles. 

Stinger’s arm went around his waist, coaxing him to roll to his side, which he did. But kept his face pressed against the pillow. He rested his hand against Stinger’s chest, measuring his heartbeat. Still a little erratic, but slowing down, evening out.

“You’re distracted,” Stinger commented.

“Sex was supposed to be the distraction,” he muttered.

“Hey.” Stinger’s fingers were on his chin, encouraging him to look up. Naaga took a deep breath, meeting Stinger’s gaze. He just looked concerned. “Sex can be a great distraction, but not when you’re so distracted you can’t concentrate on the sex.”

“I don’t feel well,” he said softly.

And that was true. His chest still felt tight, legs and hands shaking. His stomach refused to settle. A slight headache was starting. 

“You didn’t eat dinner,” Stinger replied. “Want me to go get you something?”

He just shook his head, pressing closer to Stinger.

Stinger just wrapped both arms around him, holding him tightly and close. He rocked them a little, as best he could, whispering, “What happened on Tocky?”

Naaga shook his head again.

“Naaga, whatever it is, you can tell me.”

“I’m scared.” His eyes burned with tears and a lump lodged in his throat.

“It can’t be that bad.”

“It can.” He wrapped an arm around Stinger’s side, just wanting to be close to him. Stinger just tightened his embrace slightly. “I’m sorry. I love you and I know that. And I don’t understand anything that happened, and I…” he trailed off, not even sure what he was saying in the first place.

“Naaga, it’s okay.” Stinger murmured. “You’re safe. You don’t have to talk about it yet.”

“Thank you,” he replied, suddenly feeling tired and slumping against Stinger.

Stinger continued to hold him tightly, and started singing softly. Naaga closed his eyes, just letting Stinger’s voice wash over him, soothe him.

After a few moments, he was asleep.

\--------------------

Stinger woke up to the message alert on his Seiza Blaster. Kotarou. Naaga was pressed against his side and woke up a little when he moved, getting out of bed. He pulled on a pair of pajama pants and the first shirt he found. He then pulled the covers up to Naaga’s shoulders, and smoothed his hair away from his forehead. He pressed a kiss to his temple. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

The ship was quiet as he went down to Kotarou’s room. 

And Kotarou was already mostly asleep by the time he arrived. He muttered something about having a dream about his mother. Stinger just tucked him and his monkey in, and didn’t even get through singing a whole song before Kotarou was fast asleep again.

When he came out of Kotarou’s room, Balance was in the hallway.

“Yo,” Balance said, giving him a weird gesture that was a combination of a salute and a wave.

Stinger looked at him warily. Since when was Balance being nice to him?

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Balance retorted. “Your penance is about over.”

“Oh really?”

“Look, my favorite little jerkface, I’d love to continue giving you a hard time all night, because you act really bored until it gets under your skin and then you snap.”

“Balance.”

“Right. Did Naaga tell you what happened on Tocky?”

Stinger exhaled. He shook his head. Whatever happened on Tocky had upset Naaga—a lot. In fact, Stinger could not remember anything else that had upset Naaga so much that he would not even tell Stinger about it. Most things could be coaxed out of Naaga eventually. Not this. He’d been hoping after some sleep and maybe some breakfast, Naaga would feel better and be able to talk.

“Thought not.” Balance shook his head. “I went over to his key after I turned mine. I wasn’t thinking, I just started talking about my memory—which was Naaga.”

That made sense. The memories seemed to pull things from the surface, important relationships or moments from all of them. Scorpio, Elidron, Madaako, Gonessey, even the Commander seeing Big Bear. All of those were critical moments in their lives. And for Balance, meeting Naaga had set him down the path to become a Kyuuranger. And Naaga was his best friend, as he frequently and loudly claimed. (And, despite not having facial expression, still managed to shoot Stinger a smug look every time he said his best friend spiel.) 

“So what did Naaga see?” Stinger asked, trying to hurry up the conversation.

“Nothing.”

Stinger blinked. “What?”

“You heard me—nothing.”

“Nothing at all?”

“I’m as shocked as you are.”

Stinger frowned. “There has to be some explanation. Tsurugi said that time had gone weird because of the explosion. He thought we’d all have to fight a memory, but not all of the memories were fights. Big Bear, Kotarou’s mother, you seeing Naaga. I mean, it’s possible the planet just skipped him.”

“That’s what I thought, but he started asking if it meant he had no heart.”

“What?”

“Exactly. Then we saw the Commander with Big Bear and, uh, let’s just say that did not help the situation at all.”

“Look, I tried to tell him he’s fine—he has a heart, he doesn’t need to change.” Balance shrugged. “Maybe you’ll have better luck convincing him.”

Stinger took a deep breath. “I’ll try.” He paused. “Thanks Balance.”

“No problem.” Balance gestured towards Kotarou’s door. “Is the kid okay?”

“He’s fine. Just a little shaken.”

Balance nodded, taking off towards one of the maintenance bays. Stinger walked slowly down the hallway, back to his and Naaga’s room. That’s what had Naaga so upset. Upset enough that he wasn’t fully paying attention when things started to heat up. He figured that something happened on the planet, but thought he might have seen a memory that he did not want to talk about. Stinger could sympathize with that—he had plenty of memories he’d rather not relive. Reliving his brother was hard enough. But Naaga would have started to draw all kinds of conclusions from the fact that he did not see anything on the planet. Anything from not having a heart to being empty to thinking that the emotions he’d gained weren’t enough. 

And damn Balance was right. Naaga did not need to change at all.

Since Naaga hadn’t eaten dinner, he stopped by the galley and picked up a small container of cut fruit, double-checking to be sure there were no strawberries. None. Good. The container would stay cool for a while, so Naaga could decide to eat the fruit later. 

The room was dark when he entered, Naaga just a lump under the covers. His breathing was not even, like when he was sleeping. He put the container of fruit down on the nightstand. Stinger quickly stripped off the clothing he’d put on and slipped back into bed. He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him completely against his chest. He slid his tail around with his arm, holding Naaga securely. Naaga pressed back against him, sighing a little.

“Balance told me what happened on Tocky.”

Naaga tensed, but didn’t say anything.

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

To his surprise, Naaga rolled over so he was facing him. His hands were pressed to his chest. He looked a little sad, the desperation shining through. “Then why did everyone else see something?”

“Time was out of sync for a while. The memories weren’t consistent—some had to fight, others didn’t. We shouldn’t be surprised that someone saw nothing.”

“But… but what if I’m not actually feeling things? What if I’m just… empty?”

Stinger kept his tail around Naaga’s waist, but moved his hand up to his cheek, gently cupping his face. Naaga’s eyes were bright in the low light and he looked miserable. “Naaga, you feel things. There are too many things about you, that you’ve done, to show that you feel things deeply.”

“Like what?”

He sat up a little and reached down to the footlocker at the end of the bed. He grabbed his stuffed bird and put the thing on the bed between them. “That,” he replied.

“The penguin?”

Penguin. That’s what kind of bird it was. He could never remember that. The thing was just his bird. “Yes,” he continued. “If you felt nothing, you would not have gotten this thing.” He pressed the bird close to Naaga for a moment and Naaga actually smiled a little, reaching out to touch the stuffed animal. “You were thinking of a gift for me, and you know that I sleep like hell. I think you told me that you read that holding something soft can help. And then I told you the disappearing bear story. So you decided on a stuffed animal, and then got Hame and Raptor to go with you to pick something out.” He smiled. “I can’t even imagine what that shopping trip was like.”

“It took a long time,” Naaga muttered, nose wrinkled slightly. “They wanted to look at everything.”

“Naaga, you don’t put that much thought into a gift if you don’t really care about someone.” He paused. “If you were faking it, you would have gotten me a knife or something, and likely wouldn’t even have thought of the party in the first place.”

Stinger sat up, leaning against the headboard. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the container of fruit. Naaga sat up a little. “Fruit?” he asked, taking the container. He looked considerably calmer than he had that evening and even just now.

He nodded. “I think you should eat some so you are not cranky in the morning.”

“What’s happening in the morning?”

“I have plans for you in the morning.”

Naaga’s smile again—really, just the barest hint of his lips quirking upward. Stinger thought back to where he had been six months ago and he’d come so far. Emotions and relationships, those were all so variable and Naaga was doing his best. What more could Stinger, or anyone, ask of him? The thing on the planet had to be a fluke. Naaga had too many important people and memories in his life.

He gently smoothed Naaga’s hair away from his forehead and out of his eyes as he opened the container and popped a grape into his mouth.

Naaga looked at him for a long moment, and then closed the space between, pressing a long, open-mouthed kiss to his lips. “Thank you,” he whispered.

Stinger knew they’d talk about this more in the morning. He wasn’t even sure how, but he wanted Naaga to know he was perfect just the way he was. He didn’t need to change because of some stupid planet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100k word party! Woo! In all seriousness, I am pretty stressed about this week's episode. Like, is this going to be two parts? Multi parts? Permanent personality changes? The little bit we saw of Akenba in 25 just made me think, "No one trust her!" (And was that a camping trip I saw in the preview? I'll find out, I suppose.)
> 
> Ah, my dear readers! Thank you for all your awesome continued support of this fic! I could not do it without you! Your comments and kudos make my day. You all are the best! Feel free to suggest things in the comments or over on tumblr. (For, you know, after the Angst Hard trilogy.)
> 
> Everyone have an awesome week and stay tuned!


	18. Pierced with Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He hoped nothing else would happen and Naaga would be able to center himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, dear readers. Ready for Angst Harder? This is set during and after episode 26, major spoilers therein, so do not read until you watch.

**18/ Pierced with Cold**   
_Your eyes burn bright against the frostbit sky._

“You’re still tense.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Take a deep breath.”

Stinger rested his hands on Naaga’s back, measuring his response to the request. They were laying on the bed—more accurately, Naaga was laying on the bed. He was wearing his pajama pants, shirt off, arms folded around a pillow as he lay on his stomach. His head was turned so he could glance over his shoulder at him. Stinger was just wearing the pants he usually wore to bed. He had one knee on either side of Naaga’s hips, sitting up enough to give himself leverage to continue massaging Naaga’s back. That was no easy feat right now. 

He and Balance had been taking turns reassuring Naaga that he had emotions—all this anxiety and fear about what happened on Tocky was evidence enough of that. So he didn’t express his emotions like everyone else did. So what? As far as Stinger observed, Naaga did not lack emotions. He just lacked the knowledge of social cues, the ability to read the room. He sometimes used the wrong tone when describing something. But Stinger really didn’t care. The rest of them had an entire lifetime, from infancy, of learning those things. Naaga didn’t. He was learning fast, but that was something that would take time.

“That wasn’t a deep breath,” Stinger commented.

Naaga huffed in annoyance.

See? Annoyance. There was an emotion.

Stinger leaned down, working at the muscles just below Naaga’s shoulder blade. “You’re upset about Tsurugi taking you out of the battle.”

“No.”

That response was a little too quick. “It’s okay. KyuutamaJin is a bear to pilot on a good day. And you’ve been distracted. Don’t be hard on yourself.”

Naaga turned his face to the pillow. “I’m holding everyone back,” he muttered, voice muffled.

“Tell that to the Moraimazuu you kicked the shit out of last week.”

“Are you trying to cheer me up?”

“I don’t know.” He paused, leaning into the knot he was working out of Naaga’s muscles. “Is it working?”

“No.”

“Damn.”

And then Naaga had been distracted when they had all been on the bridge discussing logistics for their trip to the past. Stinger was not convinced that Tsurugi was really just going back to a recon mission to figure out if Don Armage was dead or alive. Time was not something to toy with—if Tsurugi decided to defeat Don Armage in the past, their lives as they know them right now would change. Some of them would never meet. Others of them might not even be born. Tsurugi likely wasn’t thinking about any of that, because they were going back to a time when all his friends were alive and the universe was fighting Jark Matter and winning. Stinger might have had some bullshit in his life, but he was pretty happy with Naaga and their relationship. He had no idea what he would do if Tsurugi threatened their present.

The punch in the gut had been Naaga saying—again—that he thought he didn’t have emotions. Shou Lonpou, of all people, pointing out the obvious—frustration and worry were emotions. Stinger wasn’t sure what Naaga was expecting or why he was letting what happened on Tocky under his skin so badly. He wanted Naaga to take some of the things he and Balance were saying to heart, instead of worrying and bottling everything up. That led to shitty decisions with even shittier consequences. Stinger knew. He’d been there. Really recently. Gods, he really did not want Naaga going down the same path as him. He’d gotten extremely lucky. There were no guarantees with that. 

Stinger just wanted to pull Naaga close and not let him go until all this passed.

“Talk to me,” Stinger murmured, continuing to massage his back. “What are you afraid of?”

“Why didn’t Balance want me to stay on the ship and help him tomorrow?”

Naaga sounded plaintive and miserable. Stinger leaned down further, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. The barbeque was tomorrow. Spada had been prepping all the food that night, with Hame and Kotarou helping him. Lucky had found a park on the surface. (Not that Stinger was all that convinced Lucky was the choice for finding a destination for anything, but Spada had agreed with the location so that was something.) Naaga absolutely did not want to go. Not that Stinger was exactly thrilled about going either—he detested anything that remotely smacked of bonding. Just give them all the day off and stop with the plans! Then Naaga could do whatever he wanted. But now everyone expected them there and no one else understood why Naaga had wanted to hang back with Balance. 

Stinger knew. Balance was his best friend. As much as Balance might push Naaga beyond his comfort level and steamroll over his wants from time to time, Balance also got Naaga. Which was why Balance had been so mild on the bridge, just telling Naaga he was learning bit by bit and was going slowly. No problem. Balance knew Naaga was distracted and upset, so Balance would have just let him help with the coding and they probably would have kept quiet.

Except Balance told him to go to the barbeque. 

Which Stinger could only fathom because Balance thought part of Naaga’s current anxiety level was due to overwork. Balance thought he needed a break. 

“He wants you to have fun,” Stinger replied mildly. 

“I don’t want to do that. I want to stay here.”

Stinger moved up, working on one of his shoulders. “So don’t. Stay here. You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to do.”

Naaga let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’ll ditch it with you,” Stinger offered.

“Won’t Kotarou be disappointed?”

“He’s more interested in food and some technique Garou is teaching him right now. He’ll be fine.”

“What about Champ?”

“Champ doesn’t eat. And also doesn’t care what I don’t show up to.”

Another long sigh.

“Why are you trying to come up with excuses for why I need to go?” Stinger paused, leaning down and working his hands completely up the length of Naaga’s back. He got close enough to whisper in his ear, “Come on. We can sleep in. I’ll make you breakfast. We can spend the day in bed, see where it takes us.” He pulled back a little, kissing his shoulder again.

“I like your breakfasts,” Naaga muttered.

That made Stinger laugh a little. “Glad to know where your priorities are,” he teased gently.

Naaga rolled over just a little, enough to be able to fully look at Stinger. He stayed straddling his hips, hands warm on his back. “Is it really okay for us not to go?”

“It’s a barbeque, not a mission. It’s fine.”

Naaga rolled over completely. Stinger stayed on top of him, sitting back on his thighs a little. Naaga still looked a little distant, a little worried. “Will the others be more upset with me if I don’t go?”

“No one’s upset with you right now,” Stinger pointed out, resting his hands on Naaga’s chest.

Naaga thought for a few moments, clearly worrying over the information in his mind. He finally sighed a third time. “I think we should go.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think it will be better.”

Stinger easily swung himself off Naaga and settled next to him on the bed. He then pulled Naaga into his arms and against his chest. Naaga went easily, body warm and pliant under his touch. Another sign came out of him, but this one was contented, pleased. 

“You can change your mind whenever you want,” Stinger whispered to him. “Any time.”

Naaga made a noise of affirmation. Stinger was glad that he relaxed completely against him. He knew that the tipping point for most people wasn’t one big thing. Rather, lots of little things piled up until the pressure was too much and the person couldn’t take it anymore. Being taken out of the battle, by Tsurugi, bothered Naaga more than he would admit. And with everything on Tocky, that just pushed Naaga further into the spiral of self-doubt and anxiety. He was so convinced that he was missing something critical that the rest of them had. 

And why, for so long, had that not bothered Naaga? He had been perfectly content with what they had, reading about emotions, trying them out himself. Hell, Stinger knew how to get Naaga to laugh or smile or throw his head back in ecstasy. He’d seen Naaga genuinely cry about things. Naaga felt ill with he got stressed. None of that was something a person without emotions could do. But lately, Naaga had seemed like he wanted more. 

Stinger pressed a kiss to Naaga’s temple. “I love you,” he whispered. “You know that, right?”

Naaga pulled back a little to look at him. He was silent, but listening.

He reached out, smoothing his hair out of his eyes. “I fell in love with you the way you are right now.” He paused. Naaga blinked slowly, brow furrowed a little. “You have emotions. You don’t need to change.”

Naaga closed the small space between, pressing a long kiss to his lips.

They settled back against the bed, just breathing, being.

He hoped nothing else would happen and Naaga would be able to center himself.

He hoped.

\--------------------

“What did you say to him?”

He sounded angry and irrational to his own ears. Hame was standing across the rec room from him, head down, eyes shining with tears. She looked guilty and miserable. 

“What did you say to him?” Stinger ground out again, more bite in his tone.

“It was stupid!” Hame cried.

“What was it?”

A tear rolled down Hame’s cheek. “I told him he needed to stop relying on you and Balance so much and he needed to think for himself.”

Stinger inhaled sharply, turning on his heel and away from her. He couldn’t think, couldn’t formulate a single thought. Naaga had been so on edge that something as simple as that could have been the tipping point. And how did Naaga take something like that to heart? He would really only ask Stinger or Balance questions and, when he felt unsettled, he went to one of them. But even Balance gave Naaga a hard time and Stinger found himself intervening or defending him. Should he not have done that? Naaga wouldn’t tell people to leave him alone and Stinger didn’t want him to endure needless ribbing from the others. 

“Why?” he asked, voice low and hoarse.

“He was talking to Spada about smiling and emotions, and something about not understanding all of them.” Another tear rolled down her face. “I didn’t think.” She sobbed a little. “I’m sorry.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling again. He believed the story about the people of the Ophiuchus System originally having strong emotions. Naaga had said as much himself—they locked away their emotions in order to avoid conflict and war. The part Naaga left out, likely because he didn’t know that much about it himself, was that the strongest emotions were their anger and hatred and that led them to constant and terrible battles. 

He twisted the silver ring around his finger a few times.

“No one’s told Balance yet,” he said. “And what we saw, that wasn’t Naaga.” He took a deep breath. “I don’t care about the mission to the past. I’m staying here and getting Naaga back.”

“How?” Hame asked tearfully.

“I don’t fucking know yet!” he snapped. Hame reeled back a little at the harsh language. He tried to soften his tone. “But between me and Balance, we can figure it out.”

Naaga had said that Balance would be so happy he gained emotions, but he had also been staring directly at Stinger when he said those words. The implication was clear—he felt like Stinger wanted him to gain more emotions too, would be happy. And Stinger remembered the venom-induced dreams. He remembered seeing Naaga, still quiet and reserved, but expressing emotions a little more comfortably. That was the progression he wanted. And whatever Akenba had done to him—she had manipulated him. The strong emotions might have been there, under the surface, but the whole reason Naaga wanted emotions was to interact with the others. He didn’t want to join Jark Matter. So whatever Akenba had done, she’d added a dose of something unnatural. 

So that wasn’t Naaga.

“I love him. I’ll get him back,” Stinger muttered.

“Which is exactly why you’re staying here.”

Stinger whirled around. Tsurugi had just entered the rec room.

He narrowed his eyes. “How the hell are you going to stop me?” he shot back.

“We do have holding cells here,” Tsurugi said mildly. “You’re good, but I don’t think you can get out of a Rebellion holding cell.”

There was no way in hell Tsurugi was stopping him from doing this. He assumed that Tsurugi knew he and Naaga were together—he actually had no idea, because he and Naaga had never said anything. But he trusted the gossipmongers on the ship to have filled him in. Mostly Lucky. Actually, entirely Lucky. And if Tsurugi knew even a portion of the crap that Stinger had put their relationship through, he’d understand why he was going after Naaga now.

Stinger went to brush past him, but Tsurugi grabbed his upper arm.

“You’re too close to this,” Tsurugi said simply.

“And Balance isn’t?” Stinger tried to jerk his arm free.

“Balance isn’t his lover and Balance is mechanical.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Balance can be repaired. You can’t.” Tsurugi let go of his arm. “Think about this for a moment. Naaga isn’t acting like himself. If he hurts you or even kills you, he won’t be able to cope if we can break Akenba’s hold over him.” Tsurugi looked sympathetic. “Especially if you die. Naaga won’t survive.”

Stinger blinked, taking a half step back from Tsurugi. 

“What?” he sputtered, chest tight.

But he knew exactly what Tsurugi meant.

He knew.

Gods, he’d been such a selfish bastard during all the things with his brother and Balance yelling at him when everything was over was more than enough for him to see exactly what he’d done to Naaga too. He’d thought everything would be better that way. He had been wrong. And then Naaga did what he never expected to do—forgive him. And hell, they’d gotten even closer. The others knew about them, they’d started doing things people in a relationship did. Move in together, spilt chores, find some kind of routine in spite of their changing schedules.

That made him want those dreams even more.

He slumped against the back of a chair, bracing himself on one hand.

Naaga didn’t want to hurt anyone. Certainly not Stinger. When his brother stabbed Naaga, he hadn’t thought he’d be able to live with himself. Naaga got hurt because of him. And that had been indirect. If Naaga himself actually hurt him… he hated to admit Tsurugi was right. 

Tsurugi clapped his shoulder. 

“If you love him, you need to stay here.” Tsurugi paused. “I know Balance will want to stay behind and some of the others will stay with him. You need to volunteer to stay on the ship.”

Tsurugi left the room, and Hame followed him, still crying.

He thought about disobeying. He thought about just volunteering to stay with Balance and the others. He wanted to, really wanted to. Every part of him screamed and clawed against doing what Tsurugi wanted, but he knew Tsurugi was right. If they were going to have a chance at bringing Naaga back, he needed to be here. He was quiet for too long. Long enough that Champ had to prompt, “Partner?”

He agreed, slowly and reluctantly to go on the mission to the past with Tsurugi. (Which meant Tsurugi better fucking not change anything.)

He hated this.

“Don’t worry,” Balance said later, before they left for the surface. “I’ll go rescue him and then smack him upside the head.” He clapped Stinger’s shoulder. “But when we get his ass back home, I’m handing him to you and you are going to nurse him back to health.”

“Thanks,” Stinger replied wryly.

“You’re welcome,” Balance responded. “You’re okay.” He patted his shoulder. “Naaga really loves your dumb ass. Don’t forget that.”

“Trust me. I know. Just… get him back. Please.”

\--------------------

“Partner, you better clean up this mess. Naaga will be mad. He hates messes in his room.”

Stinger looked up from where he had effectively made a nest on the floor. He’d gone through every single drawer and item in their room, in a desperate search for any kind of answer. Naaga didn’t keep a diary and had been upset enough about the letter Stinger left a while back that he wasn’t going to do something obvious like that. Pulling everything out of the drawers had basically confirmed that Stinger had a bad habit of hiding things amongst his clothes, while Naaga kept his things neat and precise. The only thing in Naaga’s drawers was clothing. One of the desk drawers had the few personal items Naaga owned and they were all things Naaga had gotten since becoming a Kyuuranger—the stupid plush doll that Stinger had made when Champ was getting repaired, among the other few things. 

After tossing everything in their room, including his own things because Naaga might have hidden something there, he’d gone down one of the maintenance bays. He had a weapons cache down there where he also kept a canvas bag that contained clothing he was going to mend and his current projects. He usually never left that stuff in the room, but he’d brought the bag back with him. Since he’d effectively run out of things to do or search, he’d grabbed the extra blanket from the bed and his bird and laid down on the floor. (The bed smelled like Naaga.)

The blanket fell back from his head a little. His bird made a cruddy pillow. 

Champ was standing in the doorway, looking around at the mess in disbelief. 

“I know you wanted to go with them, but, partner, this isn’t what you need to do.”

“I should have gone with them,” Stinger spat, pulling the blanket back over his head and using the bird as a pillow once again. What kind of bird was his stuffed animal? Naaga would know. He was acting irrationally and he knew that, but he didn’t care. Tsurugi had told him to go on this mission and now he didn’t even care if Tsurugi’s reasons were true. Tsurugi wanted him here and now got to deal with the consequences. Stinger had never been good at coping with things.

Champ came into the room and sat down on the window seat. He saw between the blanket and the floor.

“Balance will get him back,” Champ replied mildly. “Trust the others, for once.”

The noise Stinger made was an unimpressed snort.

“When’s the last time you ate?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stinger,” Champ said, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s not your fault.”

A pang of anger shot through him and he pushed himself into a sitting position, the blanket falling to the floor. “Then whose fault is it?” He raked a hand through his hair. “I told him we didn’t need to go to that stupid barbeque—we could ditch the whole thing. Have a day to ourselves. But he wanted to go, because he was afraid people would be angrier with him.” Stinger let out a harsh breath. “I tried to tell him no one was angry with him. I should have just said I didn’t want to go. He would have stayed with me. And then Hame wouldn’t have said anything to him and Akenba definitely wouldn’t have and—“

“Partner,” Champ interrupted. “You, Balance, Hame… no one drove him to this. You know how these things go. You’ve been there.”

“Mine were always selfish, about me, my brother… Naaga wouldn’t have done this unless he thought it would make someone happy.” Stinger bit his lower lip, trying to stop it from trembling. He was not going to cry, especially not in front of Champ. 

Champ shrugged. “Maybe. Tocky upset him a lot—anyone could see that.”

“He was afraid. I tried… Balance tried…”

“Partner, I hate to say this, but this is something Naaga needs to get through on his own.”

“The only reason I got through anything with my brother was because of you all.”

“And Balance and the others are there for him.” Champ huffed a little. “Balance also knows you’ll kill him if he doesn’t bring Naaga back. That’s pretty good motivation.”

Involuntarily, Stinger smiled a little. “I don’t think I could actually kill Balance.”

“Are you talking about moral objections or just logistics? Because I can help you with the logistics.” Champ’s moo turned into a laugh.

Stinger huffed a tiny laugh at the dark joke. He rested his elbow on his knee, raking his hand through his hair again. He looked at Champ, taking a deep breath. “Ever feel like your heart got ripped out and stomped on?”

“Sure. When Doctor Anton died.”

“Champ… what if he doesn’t come back?”

“If that happens, you are going to wait for me, no matter where you are. And then we’ll figure it out, but you are not to move or do anything until I get there.” Champ mooed again. “And I know how bad you are at following instructions, so make sure you do it.”

They were quiet for a while. Spada had once said that Champ was a bull in more ways than one, and he was right. Champ had, quite literally, just inserted himself into Stinger’s life and refused to go away. He put up with Stinger wanting to hear his brother out, had gone along with him, but had known from the beginning that something wasn’t right. Stinger ignored every warning sign and everything Champ told him and when the ugly truth stood in front of him, Champ had saved him from himself. Champ had always been fond of Naaga, maybe a little amused by their relationship. (Hell, Champ had figured out they were together before they told anyone.) He was glad that Balance and Kotarou were going after Naaga. And he was glad Champ was here. (If Stinger had chosen to go with the others anyways, Champ likely would have come with him, mooing about him being a pain in the ass.)

He didn’t know what he’d do if Naaga didn’t come back.

There were too many things he wanted to tell him.

And perhaps, most of all, he understood why Naaga forgave so much of everything Stinger put him through. He came back, they got a second chance, and Naaga just wanted him to survive everything and come home. Stinger just wanted Naaga to come home now. He’d likely get mad once and argue with Naaga, but even then, he wasn’t sure he’d do that. He wanted to grab Naaga and hold him close and never let him go. His chest felt tight. For so long he hadn’t thought he could love anyone and then Naaga snuck into his life and his heart, and he fell in love so quickly he was shocked.

Gods, he wanted that life and house and baby room with the weird orange walls he’d picked out. (He assumed he’d done that. Seemed like something he would do.)

“What’s in the bag?” Champ asked.

Stinger followed his gesture. To his canvas bag.

“Just things I’m working on,” he muttered.

“Like what?”

Stinger hesitated as he pulled the bag close to him, but then relented. What the hell? This was Champ and everyone already knew he made the plush dolls of them. He pulled out three shirts—two were Kotarou’s and one was Naaga’s. “Fixing these,” he muttered. Kotarou, for whatever insane reason, always seemed to get holes in the armpits of his shirts. The shirt of Naaga’s had gotten caught on a loose screw in a maintenance bay and tore the bottom of the shirt a little. People would be able to tell the shirt had been repaired, but the tear wouldn’t get worse. 

He then pulled out the other project in the bag.

“Fancy,” Champ commented. “What’s it going to be?”

Stinger held up the partially knitted garment. “Sweater,” he said softly.

“Where’d you get the yarn?”

“Uh, store down on Earth.”

“And the sticks?”

“Made them out of a pair of chopsticks from a ramen bar.” He paused. “I’d already made them when I found out the yarn store sold them too.”

The chopsticks had been approximately the size and shape he needed, so he just sanded them down to smooth them and make them even across. On his home planet, people made the tools they needed for anything from the materials around them. His caretaker had some old wires she’d braided together into a hook and used that for yarn projects. The yarn would have been potentially difficult to find, so he’d done a quick search and realized there was a store on Earth. They’d looked at him a little funny when he went there and found the yarn he needed—gray, fluffy and soft. Then he realized everyone else in the shop was female and most were significantly older than him. So he’d bought the yarn and booked it out of there. At the time, he had more than enough lead time to finish this.

“It’s for Naaga, huh?” 

“Yeah,” Stinger said slowly. “His birthday is in October…” He let the sentence trail off.

“Still got a month and then some to finish,” Champ commented. “That’ll be a good birthday present. Naaga will like it a lot.”

Stinger looked down at the partially completed sweater in his lap. He was mostly done with the pieces and would need to start assembling them soon. He’d been basing all the measurements on Naaga’s hoodie, but decided to make it just a little bigger so it would be cozy. (The rest came from copying what had been done with his own sweater, easy enough, even though he hadn’t actually made that particular piece.) 

Champ stood up. “Well, you work on the fancy sweater for Naaga. I’m going to go get you some food and a pillow for the floor.” Champ patted his head as he walked out of the room.

Stinger stared after him. Pillow for the floor?

\--------------------

“Champ said you needed another pillow and an air mattress… what are you doing?”

Spada walked into the room. (Clearly, Stinger needed to manually lock the door.) Stinger was still lying on the floor, but he’d changed into his pajama pants and was wearing Naaga’s hoodie. He had to hood pulled over his head and then the blanket pulled over his head as well. His bird was tucked under the blanket with him. He had paper spread out in front of him on the floor, writing what had started as a letter to Naaga and then spiraled into his fears about everything and now song lyrics. His hand was actually cramping because he hadn’t written anything this long, by hand, since he was about eleven. 

He gathered all his papers together protectively.

“None of your business,” he snapped.

He looked up and realized that Spada was carrying an armful of things, including an air mattress, a pillow and a container with food. Spada was also looking at the weird container of food on the floor. “What is that?” Spada asked.

Stinger shrugged. “Champ brought it.”

Spada nodded. Clearly, that explained that.

He watched from under the hood and his blanket as Spada set the items on his desk, looking around the room with concern and then back to him. “Look,” Spada said softly. “I know you’re upset, but this,” he gestured vaguely around the room, “is not the thing to do.”

“I should have insisted he stay on the ship. None of this would have happened if I had.”

He grabbed his bird, burying his face in the stuffed animal for a moment.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do know that. Hame and then Akenba wouldn’t have said anything to him.”

“Stinger,” Spada said slowly, putting on that patient tone of voice that Stinger hated because it made him feel like an insolent teenager. “Hame was trying to encourage him outside his comfort zone. She wasn’t thinking.” He paused, and then, “And if Akenba had her sights on him, you know she would have found a way, just not today.”

Stinger hated even more that Spada was right.

“I just want him to come back,” Stinger muttered, voice muffled against the bird. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat, tears stinging his eyes.

“I know you do.” Spada nudged him gently with the tip of his foot. “Can you come out of the blanket for a minute?”

Reluctantly, Stinger pushed himself into a sitting position, letting the blanket fall to the floor.

Spada just looked calm and neutral, starting down at him.

“First, I think we should clean up all this stuff. Then you should try to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry,” he shot back, rubbing his eyes.

“I know, I know.” Spada just shook his head. “You and Naaga, neither one of you eat when you’re upset. Peas in a pod, the two of you.”

“Huh?” Stinger just stared at Spada, confused. He and Naaga were nothing alike, a fact that Balance talked about all the time as part of his ‘don’t understand why you two are together’ speeches. 

“Oh yeah. You two are stubborn and intensely private. You hate parties and crowds and would rather be off by yourselves somewhere. You’re both self-sufficient, part of which goes back to being stubborn, and you both hate asking for help, unless it’s from each other.”

He had honestly never thought of that before.

Spada rolled his eyes a little. “Okay, stop sitting there like I just told you the secrets of the universe. Get up and pick this stuff up. What the hell were you even doing?”

Stinger eventually explained that the entire thing had been an exercise in futility, but gave him something to do for thirty minutes. Luckily for him, their possessions were mostly clothes, so folding and putting away the clothes took very little time. The couple of Stinger’s own odds and ends that ended up on the floor got put away as well. In a surprisingly short amount of time, the room was back in order, exactly the way Naaga liked his living space. 

“You know what,” Spada said as they finished up putting the stuff away. “How about we just go crash in the rec room tonight? That might be better.”

Since Stinger was not sleeping in the bed that he and Naaga shared, he agreed.

The others on the ship were clearly off on their own thing now. Champ was probably running through his nightly diagnostics and Raptor was probably doing the same (in preparation for their journey in the morning with the Tokei Kyuutama.) The Commander was rarely seen outside of his quarters at night and Stinger had no clue what Tsurugi was ever doing. 

They set up air mattresses in the rec room. He tried to eat some of the food Spada brought, but could stomach very little. (Spada got rid of the odd assortment of food Champ brought him.) Stinger was not sure he’d be able to go to sleep, but after a while, he felt his eyelids droop. 

Everything would be okay.

It had to.

\--------------------

“Are you two going to be sleeping in here from now on?”

Stinger blinked as the overhead light in the rec room was turned on.

Tsurugi was standing in the doorway, looking at them with interest. 

“Get ready to go,” he continued. “We’re taking off in thirty minutes.”

Stinger glanced over at Spada, who was untangling himself from his blankets and getting up. He was wearing green pajama pants with pineapples all over them with a yellow t-shirt that said ‘Kiss the Cook’ in big wavy font. (The shirt had also seen better days.) He hadn’t really noticed Spada pajamas the night before, so he just said, “Nice shirt.”

Spada looked down, and then shrugged, “My younger siblings think they’re funny.”

Stinger just gave him a pointed look.

Spada narrowed his eyes at him. “I know, you’re thinking about how I’m a big dork right now.” He pulled a face at him. “You don’t get to talk to me about being cool right now. You’re wearing your boyfriend’s hoodie and sleeping with a stuffed penguin.”

“I’m still cooler than you,” Stinger muttered.

“Don’t go there. I know about the sweater.”

“Dammit, Champ. I’m never telling him anything again.”

As they got ready and took off for the past, Stinger stared out the window, watching the planet that they left Balance and the others on, where Naaga was. 

He could only wait right now.

And he hated waiting.

_Naaga, wherever you are, I hope you know I love you. We can figure this out. Just come back._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, Toei? Why couldn't you just have put Stinger and Champ on Balance's team to go get Naaga, and left Garou and Kotarou on the trip-to-the-past team? (Clearly, they did not ask my opinion before doing this!) Lulz. Looks like next week focuses on our mission to the past team, so we might have a 10 ish day update this coming time. Depending on the length of this arc, we may get multiple Angst Hard sequels.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, commenting, kudos-ing and otherwise supporting this fic! I literally cannot do this without you all reading! Drop me a note once in a while (either here or on tumblr) and let me know you're out there! I'm deep in my Angst Hard stuff right now, but let me know if there is something you'd like to see explored in later chapters. You all are the best! 
> 
> Everyone have a fabulous week and stay tuned! Peace out!


	19. Miserable at Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Has he eaten anything recently?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Will the angst ever stop? No. Set after episode 27 and some moderate spoilers within. (Not too terribly bad.) I suggest watch before you read, but that's up to you. :)

**19/ Miserable at Best**   
_Without you I’ll be… miserable at best._

“Has he eaten anything recently?”

Spada thought for a moment. “Well, he ate a piece of toast at breakfast.” He paused, and then, “He tore apart a bread roll at lunch. Not sure if he actually ate any of it. And,” he glanced around the galley, “he hasn’t shown up for dinner.”

“It’s ten o’clock at night,” Tsurugi commented, looking a little confused

“Right,” Champ huffed. “We’re waiting for him.”

“Waiting for him?” Tsurugi’s bewilderment grew.

Spada shrugged. “The last substantial thing he ate was at breakfast yesterday. He’s depressed and anxious, but he’s not that self-destructive. He knows when he has to suck it up and eat something.”

Tsurugi was frowning, clearly not sure how Stinger had managed to survive this long with so few actual coping skills.

“How do you know he’s going to show up now?” Tsurugi finally asked.

“Spada has his miso soup.”

Tsurugi was looking back and forth between Spada and Champ, trying to parse the information. Spada almost felt sorry for him. Tsurugi had not been around that long, at least not around them, so he didn’t know anyone’s idiosyncrasies. But for them, this was routine. Spada and Champ knew how to deal with Stinger when he was on edge and wanting to hide. Spada had made the miso soup earlier that afternoon, and Champ had sent Stinger a message around dinnertime that the soup was there. At this point, Spada was just keeping the soup warm for him.

“What time did he get up this morning, Champ?” 

A moo, and then, “Around five, I think.”

“Hasn’t he been working on Ryuu Voyager all day?”

“Yup. He cut his arm this morning. I had to take him a bandage.”

“So he’s been up, what, seventeen hours at this point?”

“He didn’t get to bed real early last night.”

“He’s running on fumes right now. He’ll show up for his soup and then crash.”

Tsurugi just sat down at the table in the galley. He shook his head. “How has he not ended up dead by now?” he muttered.

Spada shrugged again. “People care about him. Pull him back from the edge.”

Really, they were just illustrating for Tsurugi what Stinger got up to. Spada knew damn well that Stinger had not gone to bed until midnight last night—they were still crashing in the rec room, and he’d heard Stinger shuffle in around that time. Unfortunately, he’d completely slept through Stinger getting up and leaving the next morning, but Champ kept tabs on him too, and had seen him going down to the Voyager Bay shortly after five in the morning.

“Holy moly,” Tsurugi commented. “At first, I thought he and Naaga were just messing around, blowing off some steam. Then I realized they were way past that and into long-term relationship territory.” Tsurugi exhaled. “I should be impressed he’s keeping it together this well.”

“Naaga accounts for about eighty percent of his daily routine.”

“I hate being right about things,” was the only response Tsurugi had.

Almost on cue, the galley door opened and Stinger walked in, drawing up short when he saw them. He glanced from Spada to Champ, and then his eyes settled on Tsurugi. He eyed him warily as he edged into galley. 

“Partner,” Champ huffed.

Spada waved a little.

“Soup?” was the only thing Stinger said.

“On the stove,” Spada replied, watching as Stinger gave them wide berth and went to the stove, grabbing the bowl that Spada had already set out. “Eat two bowls of that, please,” Spada added.

The utterly betrayed look on Stinger’s face would have been amusing under any other circumstances. Fortunately, Tsurugi seemed to get that Stinger would relax and actually eat something if he wasn’t around, so he stood up and said something vague about going to bed. And he was gone. Stinger visibly slumped with relief over by the stove. Spada knew part of Stinger’s problem was that he didn’t know Tsurugi well. Because of that, he wanted to keep everything pretty close to the chest, didn’t want Tsurugi knowing things—any things—about him until he got to know him better and figured out exactly what it was he was comfortable sharing. 

“Sit down, partner,” Champ said blandly, “Before you fall down.”

Stinger slunk over to the table with his bowl of soup and dropped into the chair next to Champ. He ate a spoonful of soup, pulled a face and then waited a moment. Then he ate another spoonful. Spada exchanged a knowing glance with Champ, and then got up, grabbing the container of chopped raw vegetables from the fridge. He put them on the table in front of Stinger. “Eat those too.”

The glower he got in return had no real ire. Stinger looked exhausted and heartbroken.

There was nothing really left to say at this point, so they fell into a comfortable silence as Stinger ate. Spada got up to finish putting up the soup (in portioned containers so Stinger could just get some whenever he wanted) and cleaning the kitchen. Stinger finished his soup and ate a few of the vegetables before he put his head down on the table—crashing. Champ shook his shoulder.

“Can’t sleep here, partner,” Champ said. “Go put on your comfy clothes and go sleep on your air mattress.”

Stinger raised his head and pushed away from the table, too tired to argue.

Spada watched him leave the galley.

Had it really only been a few weeks ago that Stinger’s and Naaga’s positions were reversed? Naaga was stuck on the ship, worrying that Stinger was going to get himself killed or worse, and then beside himself because he thought Stinger was going to die. Naaga had questions for Stinger, wanted answers, but knew those weren’t coming if Stinger died, so he just had to hope. Somehow this felt worse. Naaga was out there, alive and well, but not the Naaga they knew, certainly not the Naaga that Stinger loved. And from the little Tsurugi had said, Naaga might not ever be the same. Lots of little things had built up for Naaga to do this, Spada knew that. He also knew that Akenba had targeted him, manipulated him from the beginning. 

Naaga loved Stinger. Balance was Naaga’s best friend.

Tocky had shaken Naaga to the core. Without Akenba and with time, Naaga would have centered himself, gotten past the incident on the planet. But circumstances came together. She must have told him that Stinger would love him more, Balance would be so happy, he wouldn’t be complete, if he didn’t let her completely unlock his emotions. And what had happened… that wasn’t unlocking emotions. That was adding a level of malice that had never been there before. Spada didn’t care if the Ophiuchus System people who came before Naaga had intense anger and hatred and never-ending warfare. Naaga was not an angry or spiteful person. Akenba twisted their words so that Naaga would think none of them supported him or ever really cared about him.

A few minutes later, the galley doors opened again. Stinger was wearing his pajama pants and Naaga’s hoodie, hands shoved deep into the hoodie’s pockets. He shuffled into the galley a little, like he was about to fall down on the spot.

“What’s wrong?” Champ asked, gruff tone holding undertones of affection.

“I don’t want to be alone,” Stinger mumbled.

That, in and of itself, was huge. Stinger was asking them for help instead of suffering alone.

Spada had already changed into his pajamas earlier in the evening. He had finished putting all the dishes and food away, so he just crossed the galley to Stinger and motioned him out of room and into the hall. They walked in silence down to the rec room and their air mattresses. Once Stinger was sure Spada was just getting comfortable on his own air mattress, he curled up under his blanket, only the top of his head and the top of the penguin’s head visible. 

Stinger really needed a hug.

Spada had a feeling not much more time would pass before Stinger would be allowing that.

\--------------------

Naaga could hear himself talking, see himself doing things, but those things were not him. He didn’t understand how he was not controlling his own actions. Like he was watching himself from a screen, just a passive viewer in his own life. If he concentrated, he could retreat to a small corner of his mind, closed off enough that he did not have to look at what was happening.

In that corner, he could let himself dream.

“Yup. Power is completely out.”

Stinger walked into the kitchen, flashlight beam waving at his feet. Naaga just smiled, continuing to light another candle. “What do you think caused it?” he asked softly.

“Who knows? The solar grid in this neighborhood is new and we’ve had a lot of rain. Probably a downed line from the panels somewhere.”

Really, the entire neighborhood was new. The place had been razed by Jark Matter and people were slowly rebuilding. The solar grid had been completed recently. Before that, they dealt with rolling power outages and intermittent blackouts. With the grid being completed, that had seemed like a thing of the past, but then a few days of thunderstorms rolled in.

“None of the breakers are tripped,” Stinger continued.

“I reported it to the Energy Bureau.”

“Now we just have to wait.”

Stinger clicked off the flashlight and set it on the counter. He closed the small distance between them, wrapping his arms around Naaga’s waist and pulling him close. He pressed a kiss to his neck. Naaga smiled, leaning back against him. He set the lighter down on the counter with the candle. He rested his hands over Stinger’s.

“I have an idea for how we can pass the time,” Stinger whispered in his ear.

Naaga felt his smile grow, feeling warm and safe in Stinger’s arms. “If you want to do that, then you better set up the cooler in the bedroom.”

“Who says we need to be in the bedroom?”

He shivered at those words. 

_This isn’t your dream_ , a voice like honeyed poison whispered in his head. _This is a dream Stinger told you about. You don’t have the imagination to dream on your own._

_Shut-up_ , he stubbornly told the voice.

Stinger was untucking his shirt, palms running warm across his skin. He sucked hot kisses into his neck and Naaga automatically tilted his head to give him more access. His breath came in a shuddering line, hard shiver of pleasure running down his back straight to his stomach and groin. He exhaled hard, pressing back against Stinger.

Nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt, and then Stinger’s hands were running the length of his chest. Naaga made a needy noise in the back of his throat, turning around in the embrace. He slid his arms around Stinger’s shoulders, pulling him close and pressing a long kiss to his lips. Stinger deepened the kiss, running his tongue against Naaga’s. He gasped into the kiss, pressing closer, waves of pleasure running through his stomach. He felt flushed, already starting to harden. 

He pushed up the hem of Stinger’s shirt, pulling the garment up and over his head. Stinger was smiling as he deposited the shirt somewhere on the kitchen floor. He then stepped back into Naaga’s space and slid his own shirt from his shoulders. Stinger’s skin then pressed against his own and he involuntarily gasped again. As much as he liked the actual act, he also enjoyed this—the touches and the kisses, the slow build of pleasure. 

Stinger pressed a hot open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder that made him moan.

“You know what?” Stinger said, raising his head. “I think we will be more comfortable in the bedroom.”

Naaga’s fingers threaded through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “You’re only saying that because we don’t have what we need in here.”

“True,” Stinger conceded. “But we’ll also be more comfortable.”

Stinger grabbed Naaga’s wrist and then threaded their fingers together. He pressed a messy, uncoordinated kiss to his lips, before leading him out of the kitchen and down the short hallway to their bedroom. Naaga had to suppress a small laugh, whispering in Stinger’s ear, “In a hurry?”

An arm was wrapped around his waist and Stinger pressed him against the wall in the hallway briefly, fingers threaded through his hair. “In a hurry to fuck you? Always.” And then Stinger proceeded to completely and utterly ravish his mouth. Naaga moaned into the kiss, deep in the back of his throat. His hands scrabbled at Stinger’s shoulders and neck, trying to settle on where he wanted purchase. He felt flushed, already sweating a little. The house was a little warm and humid, from the early summer weather and the power outage. But this had nothing to do with the circumstances and everything to do with Stinger’s hot body pressed against his own.

Stinger tugged his arm again, backing off and leading him into their bedroom. He quickly yanked the covers to the foot of the bed, and then backed Naaga onto the bed. He went easily, with a small thud, backing up immediately to make room for Stinger, who got a knee between his legs on the mattress, leaning over and continuing the kiss. Naaga’s fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss. 

_This is all you can dream about? Something you do all the time with him?_

He tried to push the voice away and focus on what was in front of him. They were both completely on the bed now, Stinger bracing himself on one arm over him.

_You are pathetic and boring. He’ll get bored with you eventually. That’s why you did this. You need more emotions if you want to keep him._

_He loves me,_ he protested.

_How can he love an emotionless, awkward mess? You’ll embarrass him and bore him._

_I don’t embarrass him!_

But did he? He did not understand a lot of social cues, still, after all this time, but he was reserved and polite in public. Some people shied away from his questions or ignored him, because he still had trouble asserting himself in some situations, especially unfamiliar ones. But Stinger never seemed embarrassed by him or his questions or his social fumbles in public. 

Stinger’s thumb was tracing his cheekbone. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

He tried to smile. “Nothing.” He adjusted himself underneath Stinger a little more comfortably.

“You looked far away.”

Naaga just gazed at him for a moment, the hair falling into his eyes. He wanted this moment to last forever, wanted to memorize every detail of Stinger, everything from the mole on his chin to the low pitch of his voice. He wanted to remember Stinger singing for him, and cooking meals together, and finally moving all their things into one room. He thought to the birthday party and the trip to Rebellion HQ and their camping trip and the amusement park and the inn near the ramen bar. There were nights where they would both put Kotarou to bed and take turns reading from the book. Working together, side by side, in comfortable silence, or sitting in the Voyager Bay, staring at the stars, trying to identify the systems out there. 

He didn’t want those things to end.

How could he have been so stupid?

_I don’t want it. I want to go back._

_You can’t. You already signed on for this. He’ll hate you when he finds out what you’ve done._

_What did I do?_

A pang of anxiety shot through him, and he wrapped his arms around Stinger, pulling him as close as possible. This wasn’t real, but this felt real enough and he wanted one last time before he had to face reality. Was that so bad?

“Hey,” Stinger said. “If you’re not up for this, we don’t have to. We can just cuddle, raid the fridge.” He pressed a kiss to the corner of Naaga’s mouth. “You know, typical blackout things.”

Naaga shook his head, wrapping his arms around his neck. “I want you.”

Stinger smiled a little, capturing his lips in a slow, melting kiss. Naaga leaned into the kiss, grinding his hips upward, feeling Stinger’s answering interest. Stinger continued pressing hot kisses down his neck and to his chest. Naaga inhaled sharply, threading his fingers through his hair. “Naaga?” Stinger asked, in between his mouth being occupied on his chest.

“Hmm?” he asked, distracted by Stinger’s tongue on his skin.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

Naaga pulled back a little. Stinger raised his head to look at him. A small smile was on his face. “I know,” he replied softly. “I love you too.”

And he did know that. He really did.

He made a needy noise, more of a whine than anything else, when he felt Stinger’s hands on his pants, undoing his belt and then the button and zipper. They had been barefoot in the house, so Stinger pulled off his pants and shorts at the same time, leaving him bare in front of him. He flushed a little, not sure why. Stinger had seen him undressed lots of times. He reached for Stinger’s pants, undoing them and pushing them down his hips. His smile got a little predatory as he stood up, removing his pants and shorts completely and coming back to bed.

Naaga spread his legs, letting Stinger get comfortable between them. He reached over to the nightstand, pulling out the bottle of lube and handing it to Stinger. A smile, and then Stinger ran a hand down his chest, ending at his hips. He stroked his length once, and Naaga moaned, hips bucking up. A strangled noise came out of him when Stinger ran a thumb over the tip. He whined as Stinger released his cock, hand going to his stomach to settle him on the bed.

“Gods, you’re gorgeous,” Stinger muttered, opening the lube and pouring some over three fingers. He rubbed his fingers together, warming it up and then went to circle Naaga’s entrance. Naaga moved his legs apart a little further, sighing as one finger entered him.

“More,” he breathed, moving his hips down, trying to speed along the process. 

“Who’s in a hurry now?” Stinger teased, adding another finger. He angled his fingers just right and Naaga moaned, back arching and stars bursting as his eyes shut. A warm laugh came out of Stinger as he crooked his fingers again, rubbing over his sweet spot. One of Naaga’s hands clutched the sheets as his other tried to find purchase on Stinger’s skin.

Stinger spread his fingers gently and then added a third.

Naaga grabbed the lube, pouring some over his hand and then reaching between their bodies, rubbing the lube over Stinger’s cock. Stinger’s hips stuttered a little, his mouth falling open in pleasure. Stinger removed his fingers, hands on Naaga’s thighs, pulling him down the bed just a little. Naaga wrapped his arms around Stinger’s shoulders, bracing his feet on the bed.

His head tipped back, hitting the pillow as Stinger slowly entered him. This always seemed to burn a little, but was so good. He loved the feeling of being stretched and filled, wanting Stinger inside him, close to him. Stinger pulled back a little and then thrust back in. Naaga moaned, deep in the back of his throat, wrapping one leg around Stinger’s waist.

Stinger threaded a hand through his hair, angling him for a deep, messy kiss. Naaga mewled into the kiss, moving his hips up to meet his thrusts. The air between them was warm and quiet, the only sounds their uneven breaths, the rustling of the sheets and their skin moving against one another. The house was even quieter than usual, none of the usual ambient noise from the climate control systems. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple as Stinger moved.

“Harder,” he said, voice hitching as Stinger changed angles, hitting his sweet spot. Stinger’s thumb gently traced his lips before kissing him again, and then thrusting harder. The noises coming out of him sounded needy and desperate, and Stinger just groaned against his neck, pressing kisses to any open skin that he could reach.

Naaga was close, he could feel himself quickly tumbling towards the edge. Stinger was also almost there, from the way his hips were moving erratically. He felt Stinger wrap his fingers around his cock and stroke him twice, and he cried out, coming hard between their bodies. A moment later, he felt Stinger come deep inside him.

He leaned back against the pillow, breathing hard.

Stinger gently unwrapped his leg from around his waist and rubbed his upper thigh for a moment. Naaga realized he was still shaking from the aftershocks.

Stinger’s lips were against his ear when he whispered, “So I think we should take a quick shower and then set up the portable cooler in here, and then,” Stinger licked his ear, “I’m going to see if I can make you scream enough for the snake tongue to come out.”

Naaga flushed, smiling with pleasure.

_See? He doesn’t hate me. He loves me. I don’t need this._

_It’s too late._

_It can’t be. Stinger came back. I can come back. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean this._

_You’re forgetting. This is just a dream._

_No. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Stinger… I just want to go back._

\------------------

Stinger walked into the galley, looking troubled. Spada glanced at him mildly from where he was scrolling through reports on his datapad. “You all right?” he asked neutrally.

The frown deepened. “You know, I stopped drinking four years ago.”

Stinger said the sentence softly, but simply as a fact. Enough time had passed that, while he didn’t talk about that, he also was not ashamed by that anymore. But he’d said it for a reason. Kind of like Naaga, Stinger said very little, so what he did choose to say was important.

“Stopped drinking?” Spada echoed, using the same neutral tone.

Stinger nodded slowly. “I was… in a bad place.” He paused, continuing, “When Jark Matter destroyed my home planet.”

He didn’t mention his brother’s role in that, even after everything, that was still too raw.

“I was trying to find my brother and was making no progress.” A self-deprecating huff came out of him. “I would hole up wherever I was crashing and lose days at a time.” Stinger exhaled. “Can’t track someone if you’re doing that.”

“You just stopped?” Spada questioned. Most people didn’t come back from something like that easily, at least not without help.

A shrug. “I stopped a few weeks before Shou Lonpou found me. I wasn’t doing that well physically, but was actually making progress tracking my brother, so I knew I was doing the right thing.”

Softly, “That takes a lot of strength.”

Another self-deprecating huff. “One of the commanders with Rebellion recognized the signs, figured out I had just stopped. She helped me. Gave me a lot of advice about it.” He let out a breath that was closer to a sigh. “Didn’t judge me for it.”

Spada just looked at him. Stinger was coming to a point with this.

“Once I stopped and stopped feeling the effects, in all this time, I didn’t really think about drinking again. Didn’t think, ‘I need a drink.’ And I’ve gotten pretty low since then.”

Some of Stinger’s coping mechanisms still weren’t that healthy, but Spada had to admit that him stopping and not starting again was impressive. And he’d been a spy with Jark Matter for a long time. Spada could not fathom how he avoided drinking there. (But Stinger was resourceful and probably faked really well.) And they did not keep alcohol on ORION-gou. Naaga had even made an off-hand remark once about Stinger not drinking alcohol. Spada couldn’t even remember the context anymore. Regardless, this was important to Stinger right now.

“You haven’t seriously thought about it in four years?”

“No. Not really.” Stinger was rubbing one of his arms unconsciously. His eyes looked bright with unshed tears as he drew in a ragged breath. “I was just… thinking about Naaga and everything that has happened.” He reached up, rubbing his eye and sniffing a little. “And for the first time in a long time, I thought, ‘I need a drink’.”

The tears began to roll down Stinger’s face, as he bit his lower lip to keep from sobbing aloud.

Spada stood up and crossed the galley to Stinger. Unable to stop his older brother instinct from kicking in, he reached out and pulled Stinger into a hug. Stinger tensed for a second, but then relaxed, still crying, the sobs now audible. Stinger didn’t return the embrace, but he also wasn’t fighting against it. After a few moments, Stinger quieted and then pulled away, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

Spada gave him an encouraging smile. “Come on, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Stinger’s wry smile seemed to say he figured Spada would offer. “Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”

“You skipped lunch,” Spada pointed out.

“I was busy,” was the evasive reply.

“You were under a table in the maintenance bay working on Naaga’s sweater.”

Stinger was definitely making progress because he didn’t bother looking embarrassed by that jab. Instead, he just glowered and muttered, “Made the right choice not working on that in front of you people.”

“Come on, I’ll make you some chicken and rice.”

And Stinger actually agreed.

And proceeded to eat most of his food.

When they were almost done eating, Spada remarked, “I have some of the vegan brownies you really liked.” Spada assumed Stinger liked them because they were not anywhere near as sweet as other dessert options.

Stinger shook his head.

“Come on,” Spada replied, putting a tone into his voice that worked with his younger siblings. The tone that said, ‘I care about you so let me do something tangible.’ “You go off on your own all day and I have no idea when you’re going to eat next.”

Stinger relented surprisingly easily.

After they finished eating and cleaning up the dishes, Spada asked, “You want to play cards?”

“I hate card games.”

“Good. I’ll win. Let’s go.”

Spada wasn’t sure when his strategy with Stinger switched from ‘give him space but let him know you’re there’ to ‘just get in his way and don’t leave’ but he’d switched. Champ and Kotarou both made progress with Stinger that way. Naaga had too. And with Stinger actually revealing how much he was hurting? Spada was not letting him go off alone. 

\------------------

Spada looked up. He had been flipping through the Rebellion newsfeed on his datapad as Tsurugi walked into the rec room. This late at night, Spada would have expected Tsurugi to be asleep. In spite of his drive and work ethic, Tsurugi was fairly regular about his sleep habits, going to bed and getting up at the same time each day. Spada was sitting on one of the couches, near Stinger’s air mattress. 

After he had eaten that evening and Spada forced him to play a few hands of cards, Stinger had just been wiped out and needed the rest. So they came back here. Stinger had worked on filing reports for a while, datapad propped on his chest as he worked. Then he disappeared under his blanket with the penguin.

Tsurugi nodded at Spada in greeting. “Where’s Stinger?” he asked, frowning as he looked around the room.

Spada pointed to the slight lump under the blanket on Stinger’s air mattress.

Tsurugi looked mildly impressed. “He asleep or ignoring us?”

Spada shrugged and then nudged the air mattress with his foot. “Stinger?”

“Ignoring you,” was the muffled reply.

Spada smiled a little. “So we can’t say anything too bad about him.”

“Say something bad about me and I will stab you.”

Tsurugi snorted at that. “Why does it not surprise me you sleep with a knife on you?” He stepped around the air mattress and sat down on the couch on the other side from Spada. He nudged the air mattress with his foot in turn. “You okay?”

Stinger didn’t reply, but the movement under the blanket was possibly Stinger pulling the penguin closer to him.

“Don’t know if I told you before,” Tsurugi said in the general direction of Stinger, “But sorry about Naaga. This entire situation is crappy.”

Stinger didn’t reply, just stayed still under the blanket.

“You did a good job today.”

“I don’t need validation from you,” was the retort from under the blanket.

“No,” Tsurugi replied. “You don’t. You and Champ were going to punch a dinosaur.” He looked down at the air mattress. “I don’t recommend trying that, by the way.” 

Stinger pulled the blanket down enough to look at them. “What do you know? It could have worked.” They were both studiously ignoring the fact that Stinger and Champ had momentarily thought the dinosaur was Don Armage, and that spurred an argument with Tsurugi about no one knowing what Don Armage actually looked like. (Never mind they were in the wrong era.)

“Dinosaurs had been extinct for millions of years on Earth before I was born, so technically, you’re right. What would I know about it?”

“What’d you people do to them?”

The question was so serious and so _Stinger_. Spada smiled a little as he looked down at his datapad. Tsurugi stared at Stinger for a long moment, and then started laughing, genuine and warm. Stinger’s entire home planet was a desert, so the plants and animals around there were limited. Stinger still thought any animal that lived in water was a fish—just a fish, nothing else. Spada also knew that Stinger thought of his stuffed animal as a bird—Naaga and Kotarou must have explained that the thing was a penguin dozens of time already, but the information just was not sticking. Not that Stinger was incapable of remembering. Not that at all. He just didn’t see the information as useful and did nothing to retain said information. 

“Well,” Tsurugi responded, still chuckling a little. “The dinosaurs died out long before humans evolved to what we are today. So we had nothing to do with it. Scientists think several things happened—disease, meteor and an ice age.”

Stinger looked mildly interested in dinosaurs. Spada had to hide his smile again. Of course Stinger was interested in dinosaurs. Spada also imagined that if anyone sat Stinger down and had him watch any of the Circuit shows about giant robots and monsters, he’d suddenly find a Circuit show he liked. 

Stinger was a giant bundle of contradictions and the more Spada learned about him, the more fascinated he was. Stinger was a fierce fighter, very protective of people he loved. Another one of Naaga’s odd offhand comments had been about trying to get Stinger to not sharpen his knives in their room. But he also knew that Stinger could mend clothes—had been mending Naaga’s and Kotarou’s clothes for a while now. He knew way more handcrafts that he would admit to. He could probably be dropped off in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the clothes on his back and possibly a knife, and build a shelter and fire, find water, and then find or hunt food within a few hours. And the man could cook, pretty damn well. 

Looking at things from a purely gossip perspective, Naaga hit the jackpot with Stinger.

“Can I ask you something?” Tsurugi said slowly to Stinger. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, though.”

Stinger looked wary, but sat up. Spada noted he kept the penguin under the blanket—that was still crossing a line into personal things Stinger did not want to talk about.

“Why Naaga?” Tsurugi shrugged. “You two seem… really different.”

Stinger narrowed his eyes a little. For a moment, Spada thought he might not answer, but then he just said simply, “Naaga didn’t want anything from me.”

Tsurugi did not seem frustrated by Stinger being vague. He looked thoughtful. “What does that mean?” he asked, voice neutral and inquisitive. 

Stinger shrugged. “Everyone wanted me to be… something else. Naaga never tried to put me in a category or try to make me promise something I couldn’t do.” He paused. “And Naaga’s… Naaga. He’s observant, picks up on things no one else would. Because he doesn’t always pick up on social cues, people ignore him or don’t listen to him.” Another shrug. “Never had to guess with him. He never had an ulterior motive. He just asked for what he wanted.”

A long exhale came out of Tsurugi. “That makes this suck even more. Holy moly.”

Stinger’s eyes were glassy, but he just replied softly, “Naaga will be okay.”

That was the first time Stinger sounded hopeful about this.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Almost six months.”

“That’s not very long,” but there was no judgment in Tsurugi’s tone.

“Enough to know it’s the right person,” Stinger shot back blandly. 

“Naaga’s lucky to have you.”

Stinger rubbed his eye, swallowing harshly. “I’m the one that’s lucky. I’ve… we’ve… been through a lot recently.” A tiny smile, and then, “He stuck with me. I didn’t deserve it.”

“We often don’t think we deserve the people that care about us,” Tsurugi replied, tone neutral. “But they care and that’s why.”

They were all silent for a minute or two. Stinger leaned back against the couch, looking thoughtful, but still miserable and heartbroken. Spada could not imagine his guilt, his anger. He loved Naaga so much that this had to feel like betrayal. He felt like he could have done more. If he had just pulled Naaga closer, done more to let him know that Stinger didn’t care about how he expressed emotions… knowing that Akenba had manipulated Naaga did not help.

Tsurugi let out a long breath. “You guys mind if I stay in here with you tonight?”

Stinger looked at him, eyes slightly narrowed, tiny frown on his face. Spada shrugged.

Tsurugi gestured vaguely. “There’s a lot going on. This seems fun.”

After a moment, Spada recognized the gesture for what it was—Tsurugi trying to offer support, even though he didn’t know them well and didn’t have a clue what to do. In spite of that, he’d picked up that Stinger didn’t want to be alone, but also bristled at asking for help or taking care of himself. And after what Stinger had told Spada that afternoon, Spada really wanted him to stay close.

“Do whatever you want,” Stinger replied.

Eventually, Tsurugi got an air mattress and they got settled into the rec room for the night. Stinger was mostly under his blanket again, singing softly to himself. 

And then Tsurugi started singing along.

Spada blinked. That had been unexpected.

“How you do know that?” Stinger asked, tone more surprised than irritated.

Tsurugi smiled. “You sing that song more than you realize.” He paused. “But I was also the first president of the Space Federation. I know a little about a lot of planets.”

“That still sounds like bullshit,” Stinger muttered.

“Believe what you want,” Tsurugi said mildly, “But it’s true. The ambassador from the Scorpio System taught me that song.”

Stinger made a noise that was halfway between disbelief and affirmation.

They were quiet for a few moments, the rec room dark, the only sounds their shuffling and breathing. Spada always had to share a room growing up, so having his own room on ORION-gou had been a novelty. This was familiar, falling asleep to the sounds of other people. 

“Hey, Stinger?” Tsurugi asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your penguin is really cute.”

In the low light, Spada could see the horrified look on Stinger’s face in the low light. He had to suppress a laugh. Stinger pulled the blanket completely over his head. 

“He doesn’t talk about the penguin,” Spada said in a pseudo-whisper.

Tsurugi kind of smiled. “Naaga get it for you?”

Stinger made a noise of affirmation.

“Why?” Tsurugi asked idly.

“Because he likes me and not the rest of you,” was the snapped reply.

“That’s sweet.”

“Shut-up.”

“Will you show me the sweater you’re making for him in the morning?”

The noise Stinger made was frustrated and distressed. “I am never telling Champ anything ever again,” was the muffled comment against the pillow.

The saving part, Spada supposed, was that Tsurugi still genuinely thought Stinger had a knife on him when he went to bed. Which allowed Stinger to feel like he was saving face a little. But between the Indavers that day and the threatening to punch a dinosaur, Spada figured Stinger didn’t have much to worry about. 

They were quiet after that.

Spada had no idea what they would find in the past, but he hoped that Balance and the others would find a way to bring Naaga back, maybe not exactly the same, but back to his senses. He’d not been sure how Naaga would get through something happening to Stinger, but he was very sure that Stinger would not come back from Naaga being gone forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long is this Naaga story line going to go on? (I will admit, even though the episode was part retrospective, there was definitely enough stuff going on to entertain me. Just Stinger being like, "Do I have to do everything?" and then the dinosaur. Just... the dinosaur. "Then what does Don Armage look like?" Great question, Stinger.)
> 
> As always, enormous thank you to all my readers! Thank you for reading, kudos-ing and commenting! Your support on this fic has been phenomenal and I continue to be awed and humbled by all of you! THANK YOU! You all are the best!!
> 
> Once I see Sunday's episode, I will go from there. Stay tuned and have a great week!


	20. Terrible Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This had gone from bad to worse faster than Balance would have ever thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, dear readers, it's been a while! This is set during episode 29 (ish) at the beginning. No real spoilers for 29, but definite spoilers for 28. Read at your own risk!

**20/ Terrible Things**   
_So don’t fall in love, there’s just too much to lose._

Stars and garters.

Nuts, bolts and drill bits.

Fucking hell.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

This had gone from bad to worse faster than Balance would have ever thought, and here he was, fucking around a crumbling and wrecked ORION-gou. There was a goddamned assassin from the Ophiuchus System after Naaga, they’d been stupid and listened to Akenba and that only made everything with Naaga worse, and now the others had gotten caught up in something _bad_ in the past. 

His extremities were broken in places, joints grating against one another, squealing unpleasantly. He could feel loose screws and wires messing with his internal systems. This was utter bullshit. He needed to slow down and repair himself, at least the injury to his leg, which was still causing him to limp badly. And the really stupid part was all his injuries were directly or indirectly because of Naaga and he didn’t give one single flying fuck about that. Naaga was his best friend—the best friend he’d ever had in his entire three hundred year life! He wasn’t leaving Naaga to this fate. If Naaga ended up killing him, oh well. Maybe Naaga would know in the back of his mind he still had a friend.

He hadn’t thought about how he and Naaga had met in a long time.

The Ophiuchus System had been invaded by Jark Matter, like so many other systems. Most of the people fled and formed a colony on another world, a remote one outside of Jark Matter control. Naaga never said much about his childhood or his home planet, but Balance assumed that setting up the routine and order that members of the Ophiuchus System had for years would not be hard. Naaga had been with them. He had said at one point he was training for security, but never really mentioned what he was doing when Balance stumbled into their colony, after some priceless artifacts. (Well, not priceless, per se. Balance was getting a hell of a payday for them.) He gathered Naaga hadn’t been there long.

And honestly, because everyone from the Ophiuchus System looked the same, he’d thought Naaga was another security guard, probably ready to arrest or execute him on the spot.

But Naaga was… different.

In the first minute of their meeting, Balance realized Naaga was fascinated by emotions. He might have heard there was an intruder they were chasing and, because Naaga was so compelled by the idea of emotions, he’d gone to see if he could get to Balance first. (Naaga never quite put things that way, but Balance read between the lines and also inferred from some things Stinger had said.) He wanted a world with emotions and peace, where people could smile together. Naaga didn’t think emotions were bad, but his people had taught him from birth that emotions caused wars. But Naaga knew that some emotions were good and that other people had emotions and lived on peaceful worlds. Even with the Jark Matter invasion, his people were just rebuilding their old life, nothing new.

Naaga was upset about that, sure, but also knew there was so much more.

Balance never really thought about taking Naaga away. At least, not before Echidna made her cutting comment. He needed to get out of there, and Naaga clearly didn’t want to stay, so he wasn’t doing anything Naaga didn’t want. Naaga came with him voluntarily, dammit! And then came on heists with him and then became his best friend. Was he really as bad as some assassin? No. He couldn’t be. He took Naaga away because Naaga wanted that. Even in the whacked out state he was now, he didn’t want someone from his home system to murder him.

Both Akenba and Echidna seemed to think Naaga was not coming back from this.

Balance didn’t believe that. Didn’t believe that at all.

Naaga was not angry or spiteful or violent. 

He just had no fucking clue how they were knocking some sense into Naaga. Beating him up sure as hell hadn’t worked—just made him angrier. Maybe they needed to hug him? Maybe Lucky needed to get Stinger’s ass back from the past and Stinger could kiss him? Naaga might have been fighting erratically now, but Balance could still hold him down enough for Stinger to get in a smooch. Maybe they could knock Naaga out and put him in a holding cell or a medically induced coma and they could get a psychic from a remote planet to lock down his id, or whatever? 

The point was, he didn’t know and he hated that. 

He looked up, realizing where he was.

The living quarters, right outside of Stinger’s and Naaga’s room. He sighed. He was also still carrying the pack that Stinger had put together for Naaga. No idea what was in the pack—he hadn’t bothered to look, because he’d thought they’d have Naaga back by now and he’d just hand the pack over and Naaga could cry about whatever Stinger put in there. 

The power system was down, so he just pried the door open. Their room was like the rest of the ship, decayed and in disrepair. Things were preserved somewhat from the ship’s systems, but a lot of the elements had still been able to get in. The room was oddly untouched—furniture under a layer of dust and dirt. Balance hadn’t really come in here that much, not since they finally moved into the same room. Everything was as he remembered—neat, a little sparse. Naaga didn’t have many personal possessions and neither did Stinger. And Stinger kept all of his little craft projects down in the maintenance bay. (Balance knew—he’d found his stash.)

He set the pack down on one of the desks.

Might as well see what Stinger put in here. Make sure nothing was perishable. Whatever.

He opened the pack.

Stars and garters.

If he could have smiled, he would have.

He knew Stinger’s sense of practicality was rivaled only by Naaga’s, but the pack was a sweet mixture of things Naaga would need and things Naaga liked. Naaga’s pajamas were in the pack, and a change of clothes. And Stinger had also very thoughtfully put in a small travel-sized hygiene kit for him, toothbrush and all. But then the little touches—he’d packed the small plush toy Kotarou had made, meaning that was the one of Stinger. He’d also tucked in a small tin of tea—the tea bags inside revealed a variety of the types Naaga liked. There was some food in a travel cold box—meaning it would keep until the food itself expired. The box had oatmeal, blueberries, bread, cheese and butter. Balance had no clue what to make of that, but assumed that was the ingredients for something Naaga liked. He didn’t open the letter in the bag—he’d need to leave Naaga some privacy. And then the scarf, clearly something Stinger had made, using mostly gray and orange yarn. 

Dammit. He’d been straight-up willing to murder Stinger a few weeks ago.

And then the asshole had to go and prove he knows Naaga really well and loves him.

Stupid Stinger suddenly being an acceptable boyfriend. 

He got Stinger and Naaga being together, he really did. He might have spent the last few weeks muttering under his breath about Stinger and making vaguely threatening comments, but he knew damn well that Stinger would do anything for Naaga. Hell, after Tocky, they’d practically tag-teamed to try to talk Naaga off the ledge he’d worked himself up to. 

Tsurugi might have been right about Stinger staying away from this, because he was too close.

But Stinger must have been dying in the past, wanting to be here and now caught up in whatever dire bullshit they were in now. 

“Dammit, Naaga,” Balance said aloud. “You have a boyfriend who’d marry your ass right now, and a bunch of friends who love you. Why would you even listen to a sleaze-bucket like Akenba?”

Because Naaga was still insecure about his emotions?

Because he still missed social cues and got embarrassed?

Because people still wrote him off as the weirdo from the Ophiuchus System?

Because he was afraid of losing Stinger and Balance and all his friends?

“We’re not fucking going anywhere. You’ll have to kill me to get rid of me.”

“Balance?”

He turned. Kotarou.

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one.”

He zipped up the pack and slung the bag over one shoulder. A box on the desk caught his eye. The simple flat box had a fingerprint lock, but the hinges had rusted through a long time ago. He lifted the lid a little. Yellowed and crumbling paper was inside, along with a bug eaten piece of fabric. The only thing that survived the elements and time was a necklace—a silver chain and a charm. The chain didn’t look like something Stinger had made, but the charm did. A snake and a scorpion entwined together. Impossible to say if Stinger made the necklace for himself or Naaga. Probably Naaga. Stinger didn’t make his crafty things for himself.

Balance picked up the necklace and tucked the jewelry into the front pocket of the pack. Hopefully, Stinger would make it back and Naaga would come to his senses, and they could have a tearful reunion where Stinger gave Naaga the necklace. 

“That was one of the presents Aniki was making for Naaga,” Kotarou commented, looking worried and a little sad.

“One of the presents?” Balance asked.

Kotarou nodded. “He said he never knows when he’s going to have time, so he starts making them early.” He shrugged. “Naaga’s birthday is in October, and Aniki said his people give presents on the winter solstice and New Year’s.”

Balance ruffled Kotarou’s hair. “He better let Naaga in on the gift giving. Naaga will be pissed if he thinks he’s supposed to have a present for Stinger too and he doesn’t.”

“I’ve never seen Naaga really mad before.”

“It’s a subtle thing. Stinger pays for it later.”

“What?” Kotarou looked confused.

Right. Ten year old organic. “Never mind,” he said quickly. “Let’s go back to camp. I want to hack into the Jark Matter surveillance, see if I can find Naaga.”

Kotarou wrinkled his nose. “Is Garou going to cook?”

“Nah, ask Hame real nice. She doesn’t want burnt meat either.”

“Balance?”

“Yeah?”

Kotarou looked at the ground, lower lip trembling. “I miss Aniki… and Naaga.”

Balance ruffled his hair again. “I know, bud. Me too.” He paused. “Our job here is to get Naaga back. We want him back by the time the others get back.”

Kotarou sniffled a little, but nodded.

Balance had spoken with more confidence than he felt.

But, geez, if Stinger could come back from something that was a death sentence, they could figure out how to get Naaga out of this. Balance would need to check the first aid kit. Maybe a whole bunch of tranquilizers and then some aromatherapy? Some kittens? Or puppies? Naaga was sympathetic to cute animals. 

Drill bits, he wished Champ was here. He needed someone to annoy.

They walked out of the ship and back towards their camp.

Maybe there was some Jark Matter shit to steal. That would cheer him up.

Shiny things—another thing to try on Naaga.

Hell, this sucked. He should have put a tracker on Echidna. That woman would not hesitate before killing Naaga. At least Akenba was keeping him alive for a reason. 

“Let’s go plant a tracker,” he said cheerfully to Kotarou.

\--------------------

Naaga _hurt_.

He didn’t like this bed or these clothes or Akenba or the Indabee she had treating his wounds. He didn’t quite remember what had happened, what he said to Balance, just that Balance kept sticking around in spite of the terrible things he must have said. Why had he said those things? He couldn’t remember what they were or why he would have said them. Everything was still clouded in a fog, and he was sometimes more aware, like now.

Everything burned with pain, and he just wanted Stinger.

Stinger would be able to treat his wounds quickly and efficiently, know what dose of pain medication he needed, would help him shower and change into comfortable clothes. They would both get into bed and Naaga would be able to curl into the warmth of Stinger’s body. They had sheets on the bed that were worn through and soft. The extra quilt gave them warmth against the cold in space, making everything toasty and relaxing. He’d feel safe and warm and have no trouble falling asleep. 

He felt a tear slip down his cheek as the Indabee finally left him alone.

He couldn’t really remember anything, never sure if he was controlling his own actions or if _something_ else was. Everything Akenba said sounded like honeyed poison, and he didn’t know what was real and what was a dream. He didn’t think he saw Stinger with Balance and the others earlier, but he’d seen Stinger lots over the past few days, just bits and pieces of dreams, never anything real enough to grab onto. But why wasn’t Stinger with Balance? Stinger would have wanted to come here and try to get him back. Wouldn’t he? Stinger loved him. He wouldn’t listen to Tsurugi or Lucky or Shou Lonpou or anyone who tried to tell him to stay away.

His heart fell into his stomach, adding a griping wave of anxiety to his pain. What if Stinger didn’t come here because he was disgusted? Because he was done with Naaga? Because he’d seen something that Naaga had done (and Naaga couldn’t remember what that was) and decided that Naaga was too far gone to care about.

_Stinger wouldn’t do that. He loves me. He’d fight until the end._

_You can’t come back from this. You’ll never be the same. Why would he waste his time?_

_I believed in him!_

_He only sacrificed himself. He never hurt others._

_Who did I hurt?_

But the voice was maddeningly silent.

And all he could really think about was how much he wanted Stinger to be here.

Just when he would start to think about getting away, more of the fog would return and he’d find himself in dreams, and Stinger would be there, and they’d be doing something mundane, laundry, dishes, making the bed, talking idly about nothing. He’d feel himself calm down, like all these terrible things were just a dream and the reality was his domesticity with Stinger. Everything was quiet and sunny and peaceful and his smiles weren’t forced. 

Maybe that was it. He needed to get away and he’d be flung into the dreams and forget all about trying to escape.

He needed to get out of here.

He could feel that down to his bones.

If he could get away, Balance would think of something. Balance was out there, he remembered that very clearly. He would just need to get to them when Akenba wasn’t watching, or the Indabees. They could restrain him or knock him out. There’d be enough tranquilizers in a standard first aid kit until they could get him back to ORION-gou and then Rebellion HQ. Someone had to be able to figure out what was wrong with him, if he could go back. His people never talked about how they removed their emotions to avoid war. He’d always assumed that they spent generations perfecting their societal structure. But maybe there was something more. Maybe they’d done something to themselves and Akenba had broken and infected whatever that barrier was.

_Infected_.

That’s how he felt, like there was a poison creeping through his system and, just when he thought he’d shaken everything, the symptoms would flare up again and he wouldn’t be able to remember anymore. He just remembered being angry. Balance had used some Kyuutama on them, holding Naaga down, and then intense pain… and the anger. He may have threatened Balance. But then he was back here, with Akenba fluttering insincerely around him.

_She’s using me. I was too stupid to see that._

_She is. But there’s not a lot you can do about that now, can you?_

_Shut-up!_

He was crying in earnest now, harsh sobs hurting his chest. 

“You poor thing!”

Akenba. He deliberately turned away from her, pulling the scratchy blanket that he hated over his shoulder and trying to disappear into the bed. The move was childish and would not work, but he found some small comfort from doing so. Tiny bits of subversion. 

“I should have never let you go up against those nasty Kyuurangers,” she continued. A hand stroked his head and he shied away from the touch. “You did well today. You need a reward.”

And then he was in his normal pajamas, laying on a bed with soft sheets and warm blankets. He wasn’t on ORION-gou, but in what he imagined their house would look like. Stinger was walking into the room, wearing only his pajama pants, holding a mug of tea. He set the mug on the nightstand, sitting on the edge of the bed and running his hand through Naaga’s hair.

“Hey,” he said softly. “Your stomach still hurt?”

Naaga nodded against the pillow, stomach still tight and queasy. 

“I made you some mint tea. See if that helps.” Stinger continued stroking his hair. “I can make you something bland for breakfast. Just some plain oatmeal.”

“I don’t know.”

Stinger gently helped him sit up a little. “Try some of the tea first,” he said gently. He rested a hand against Naaga’s forehead. “Feels like your fever has broken.”

Naaga let himself be moved against the headboard, still under the covers. He accepted the mug of tea, breathing in the warm steam. He took a tiny sip, and then another, waiting for the liquid to settle before he tried drinking more. He had barely been able to keep water down last night, everything coming back up. He hated throwing up, because he associated that with stress, not a stomach bug. He’d panicked a little, but Stinger just reassured him that this was normal and he’d probably be over everything in twenty-four hours. That had been twelve hours ago.

Stinger sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tucking him against his side. Naaga melted against the touch. 

“Aren’t you worried about getting it?” he murmured.

“No,” Stinger replied, tone warm. “Those things can incubate for days before you come down with it. I probably already have it, so there’s no point in avoiding you.” He pressed a kiss to his temple. “Besides, you need me right now. You don’t know how to be sick.”

“I’ve been sick before,” he shot back with no real ire or energy.

“Yeah, and you didn’t know how to relax and rest then.”

Naaga thought about poking his side, but leaned further against him, continuing to take small sips of the tea. The mint was soothing his stomach, and the liquid seemed like it was settling. Stinger had said when he felt hungry, he’d know he was over this bug. His stomach was definitely still on edge, so he hadn’t hit the end of this yet.

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“Please don’t make me watch a Circuit show today.”

Stinger just rubbed his shoulder. “You need rest. So I plan on forcing you to spend the whole day in bed.”

He didn’t know why, but he said, “I’m sorry.”

Stinger looked a little confused. “What for?” he asked, fingers running through Naaga’s hair. “You’re just sick, Naaga.”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re going to be okay. You’ll get over this.”

But something wasn’t right. This house was not real—he was only picturing from the stories that Stinger had told him. And he wasn’t sick. He was hurt. And Stinger wasn’t actually here. In the past few days, he’d only seen Stinger in small snippets. Why was Akenba letting him have Stinger for this long? He knew, knew, that Stinger wasn’t real. He didn’t even think that Stinger had been with Balance when he fought them earlier. (Fought them? Maybe. They were his friends. Did he mean to fight them? He was no longer sure of his actions or intentions.)

“How do I stop this?” he asked Stinger.

Stinger glanced down at him, expression thoughtful. For a moment, Naaga thought he might talk about the stomach bug and being sick, because this was a dream and nothing was real. (This felt real, but feeling real and being real were different things, he knew.)

“You fight,” Stinger said softly, surprisingly him. His voice was low and emphatic. “You fight as hard as you can with everything you have.”

“I can’t,” Naaga gasped, chest tight, lump in his throat. “I’m not strong. Not like you are.”

“Naaga,” Stinger replied, rubbing his shoulder. “You are stronger than I could ever hope to be.”

“How?”

“You went against centuries of programming in your people. You decided that emotions were more important than keeping the peace. You went your own way.”

He rarely talked about leaving the colony his people had been setting up. He didn’t see that as really important. The important parts of his life began when he formally joined Balance as a thief. Stinger didn’t know those things, and now he was upset he didn’t tell him and would likely never get the chance. He didn’t see how anything he did was truly remarkable. In fact, Stinger really thought he left because of the Jark Matter invasion, and he had just glossed the details. He never talked about the things in between the invasion and then meeting Balance. Hardly any time was between the two, but there had been time.

“I’m not strong,” Stinger continued. “I believed all the lies my brother told me, and got low enough that I asked him to kill me. I tried to take him on myself and nearly died in the process.” He shook his head. “But you… I never went against centuries of tradition. You did. You found a new path.”

“I met you.”

“I know.” Stinger sighed. “I wish, sometimes, that you had listened to me and Balance.” He was rubbing his shoulder again. “But you know, some things you have to face, even if they hurt. You told me so many times to just stay at Rebellion HQ, but I didn’t listen. This will hurt, a lot, but you’ll get through. Because you’re strong. And then you’ll be even stronger.”

“I’m scared.”

“Important things are always frightening.”

Naaga looked up at Stinger. His hair was falling into his eyes, like always. He found that small detail comforting. Some things never changed. Even when Stinger’s hair was shorter, his hair always fell into his eyes. 

“I want to get married,” he blurted, surprising even himself with that want. He’d never said anything like that aloud before. Never even really thought about something like that, other than in vague terms of later. 

“Why?” Stinger asked gently, voice indicating interest. He didn’t look like he was rejecting the idea, simply trying to gather more information on why Naaga wanted that suddenly.

“I want this to be permanent,” he mumbled.

“It already is,” Stinger reminded him. “You’re stuck with me, no matter what some piece of paper says.” He kissed his temple. “And believe me, warriors from the Scorpius System are among the most loyal you’ll find.”

“I know,” Naaga murmured. “I just…”

“Naaga.”

He looked up at him again.

“We will get married. Believe me.” His fingers were on his chin, raising his head and meeting his lips in a soft, sweet kiss, the kind of melting kiss Naaga loved. “But right now, I need you to fight.”

“That’s enough.”

And suddenly, he was no longer in the bedroom and Stinger was gone.

Akenba leered over him.

“You give yourself too many ideas.”

_I need to get away._

_I need to get away._

_I need to—_

Darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I thought the final Stinger and Scorpio arc was long? I have clearly seen nothing yet. :) The dark Naaga arc/stuck in the past is definitely going on longer than I thought, which is the delay for this current update. Shout-out to redroses89 over on tumblr for giving me some feedback! :D
> 
> As always, to all my readers, thank you for your continuing support, reading this piece, kudos-ing and commenting! Drop me a comment every so often and let me know you're out there or send me a message on tumblr! (I sometimes get behind replying to comments or messages, but I will get back to you! I promise!) You all are utterly amazing! Your comments and messages make me smile a lot! I am glad you all are enjoying this fic and this ship as much as I am enjoying writing it! Feel free to message or comment with something you'd like to see. (I oddly got an idea for a winter holiday chapter the other day.)
> 
> Next week's episode looks like more of our team in the past (and Lucky powering-up in that really sweet form). This arc has been giving us snippets of each team, even if the focus is the other, so I might get something to work with. I kind of have two resolutions in mind - the everyone is back together part, and then a potential interim part if Naaga gets saved before Stinger gets back. All that to say, likely another 1-2 weeks for the update. Everyone have a fabulous weekend and stay tuned!


	21. Full of Broken Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stinger wasn’t surprised that Naaga fled from the bridge the first chance he got and all but disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! A bit of a delay after episode 31 for this one. (Heck of a week at work, among other mundane real life things.) Definite spoilers for episode 31, so please do not read until you watch from your source of choice.
> 
> Here we go...

**21/ Full of Broken Thoughts**   
_What have I become…_

Stinger wasn’t surprised that Naaga fled from the bridge the first chance he got and all but disappeared. He was off-kilter, embarrassed and ashamed. Stinger was sympathetic—he hadn’t understood why anyone would forgive him so easily after everything with his brother, but they had. Balance’s entire grudge against him had nothing to do with his actions surrounding his brother and everything to do with what he perceived as slights against Naaga. That’s what friends were for, he supposed. Sometimes he thought all the others were too trusting… or too cautious.

He was still irritated that, after everything in the past, Tsurugi had left him on the ship when they went to enact the first part of Balance’s plan to get Naaga back. _“You’re too close to this—I told you before. Besides, if Balance doesn’t work, you need to be the back-up.”_ That was bullshit and Tsurugi knew that very well. Stinger could have been as effective if not more effective than Balance, and Tsurugi was still on the rant about what would happen to Naaga if he accidentally killed Stinger. At least they finally figured out that Akenba hadn’t simply unleased emotions that were dormant in Naaga—she’d literally infected him to control his emotions and actions. The intense anger wasn’t Naaga, not him at all. Naaga didn’t get angry like that—not even at Stinger, who deserved to be the object of that anger.

He sighed as he walked down the hall.

He hoped that Naaga was just hiding in their room and had not gone to ground somewhere else on this ship. Stinger knew the blueprints of the ship inside and out, and there were likely some hiding places not even Balance and Naaga knew about, but he didn’t relish the idea of spending potentially hours searching the ship for Naaga. His plans involved getting Naaga to eat some dinner, taking a bath with him and going to bed for a long time.

Their room was dark when he entered.

Stinger looked around, letting out a long breath. Looks like he was searching the ship after all. (Balance had Naaga’s Seiza Blaster, making sure everything was tuned back to their frequencies and that Jark Matter couldn’t hack into the device. So reaching Naaga via message was out—if Naaga was even in a state of mind to respond.)

Then he heard the sniffle.

Chest a little bit tight, he turned on the lamp on the nightstand. 

They’d pulled the bed away from the wall a bit, just enough to put a small table on the other side as a makeshift nightstand, and allow one of them to walk around that side. Stinger’s footlocker was still at the end of the bed. (Naaga had reorganized things so their winter clothing and extra blankets were in the footlocker.) 

His heart broke a little when he saw where Naaga was.

Naaga could curl himself into small places, and he was demonstrating that now. He was sitting between the wall and the footlocker, knees pulled to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. His face was pressed to his knees, and his shoulders were shaking with silent sobs. 

Stinger itched to just pull him into his arms.

Instead, he slowly rounded the bed and sat down on the floor near Naaga, not quite touching him. “Hey,” he said softly. He reached out and rested a hand on his wrist. “There you are.” He didn’t ask if Naaga was okay, because he knew Naaga was anything but. 

Naaga raised his head enough for Stinger to see his eyes—red, puffy, tears still coming.

“I’m sorry,” Naaga murmured, voice muffled.

“I know. You don’t have to say anything.”

And Naaga really didn’t. He knew that Naaga had deep-seated fears that he kept hidden. He was impassive, so most people couldn’t tell when he was upset or frustrated or even embarrassed. He was comfortable enough in front of Stinger to express those emotions, and they got up to such intimate things that Naaga didn’t have time to overthink his reactions to something. So Naaga really did have emotions—expressing those emotions was quite another thing. He was so guarded around others that he worked hard to figure out the right tone or social cue or emotion—reading people or situation was a challenge because of his upbringing on his home planet.

Naaga was still crying. Stinger shifted closer, raising one hand and resting the hand on the back of his neck. He gently massaged the muscles there. Naaga was incredibly tense. 

“I don’t remember,” Naaga sobbed softly. “It seemed like it would be my emotions, and I don’t remember agreeing to it, and then Balance was there, and I didn’t know what was real…” He trailed off. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve.

“She manipulated you—we know that now. You couldn’t have stopped that.”

“But I just…”

“Naaga,” he said gently. “I didn’t throw off my brother’s venom until Kotarou hit me with the antidote.”

Naaga turned to look at him, small hiccup coming out of him.

“I told you I want to get married.”

Stinger blinked.

“In the dream.”

“Naaga,” he breathed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and holding him as close as he could with him still in the curled up position. Something loosened in his chest when Naaga leaned into him. He’d thought about that before—both of them had. But that seemed a long ways off.

“Why are you forgiving me?” Naaga cried against him.

“Because I love you,” Stinger replied. He took a deep breath. “And because I know how hard all of this is. You wanted to learn more about emotions, and you did. But being like everyone else is tempting. Everyone wants that on some level.”

“Did you want that?”

“Sure. I just hit a point a long time ago when I realized no one is really the same, and trying to be like other people was going to get me nowhere.”

Naaga just started crying in earnest, pressed closer to him. Stinger held him tightly, trying to rock him a little in spite of the relatively awkward position. Naaga really thought he was doing the right thing—and that had all been part of Akenba’s manipulation. Get Naaga to think all of this was his idea and he’d go much more willingly. Gods, if Balance had not figured out how she was controlling Naaga, he hated to think what would have happened. Naaga may have killed one or more of them—Kotarou had said that Naaga captured him and Garou to lure Balance in.

But Naaga was strong—strong enough to hear them and throw off the bonds keeping him trapped inside his own mind. “Naaga,” Stinger said softly. “You are incredibly strong and brave. That’s why you made it back.”

He kissed his temple and then gently turned his chin so he could kiss him briefly. Naaga responded to the kiss, leaning more against him. He pulled back a little, reaching out to gently wipe away some of the tears.

“You want to come out of there?” Stinger asked warmly. 

Naaga shook his head. “I don’t want to go to dinner.”

“Not what I asked,” Stinger responded, tone gentle, no annoyance there. Then he thought of something else. “Are you hungry?”

No response. Naaga just looked distressed.

“We can wait until everyone else is done with dinner, and then I can make you something.” He rubbed Naaga’s shoulder. “Is that okay?”

A tentative nod, and then a quiet, “Will you make grilled cheese?”

“Of course. And we have some tomato soup we can heat up.”

Naaga seemed content with that—outside of tea and a definite preference against sweets, Naaga was rarely expressive about food he liked or didn’t like. Making toasted sandwiches was common on his home planet—cheese or butter were luxury items and they didn’t have them a lot, but Stinger remembered those making the toasted sandwiches better. So he’d just taken cheese and tomatoes and made something similar one night for dinner. He’d wanted some soup, so he’d also warmed some leftover tomato soup. Kotarou informed him later that the sandwich was called grilled cheese on Earth.

And that had been one of the few times Naaga had expressed liking the food.

He swallowed the lump in his throat as he coaxed Naaga out of his hiding place and got him settled on the bed, holding him close. They had an hour or so before dinner was over, and Spada just sent him a message asking if they were eating later. He ran his fingers through Naaga’s hair, rubbing his back. Naaga would be okay. They both would.

Because Naaga was back and in his arms. 

\-------------------

Naaga woke up with a start.

His dreams had been a violent mix of things. First, Akenba hurting him until he cried out, holding sensitive areas— _intimate_ areas—and crushing until he screamed for mercy. Then Akenba just faded to a whisper in his ear and he was the one doing the hurting. He would kill them, all of them, and Stinger would be last, face just sad and resigned. That hurt most of all. Hadn’t he told himself he was doing this for Stinger and Balance? And in spite of that, he still listened to Akenba’s poisoned words and murdered them, feeling nothing as he did so. Finally, he would be alone, in an empty room by himself, hurting himself in a desperate attempt to feel something, anything.

The room was quiet in the middle of the night.

Stinger shifted a little as he sat up.

Then he realized he needed to use the bathroom—badly. So badly that his stomach and hips were cramping from pain. He was very close to having an accident. He was already humiliated enough after all this. He could not deal with something like that happening in front of Stinger. He scrambled out from under the blankets and out of bed, stumbling to the bathroom. He just needed to get into the bathroom, then he would be fine.

“Naaga?” Stinger called sleepily after him. “You okay?”

He didn’t reply, the only thing coming out of him an embarrassing whimper. He got to the bathroom and got the overhead light on. 

His hands weren’t working.

They were shaking too badly to undo his pajama pants and get them open enough. He made a low, distressed noise as he fumbled with his clothes. He didn’t want to go on himself, and his noise got a little louder as he tried desperately to get in a position to take care of this. 

Then hands were on his, moving them out of the way and untying the drawstring of his pajama pants. Stinger. He must have heard his noises.

Stinger was making low, soothing noises. He gently and quickly pushed his pajama pants down around his thighs and got him sitting down on the toilet. “Just sit down,” Stinger was saying softly. “It’s going to be okay.”

Now that he was actually in a (relatively) not embarrassing place to take care of this, he couldn’t. His breath was coming in harsh, short gasps. He was flushed and sweat was beading at his temples. Everything hurt so much with the pressure. Why couldn’t he go?

Stinger’s hand was in his hair, other hand on his shoulder, pulling him against his chest. He pulled back a little, studying him. He was frowning, looking worried. “Do you need help?” he asked, voice soft and reassuring. 

“I don’t want to go to the infirmary,” Naaga whined, tears forming in his eyes. He couldn’t imagine the humiliation of going to the infirmary for this. Raptor would have to do something personal and far too intimate, more than he could imagine. A medical pod didn’t help with things like this.

“I know. It’s okay. We’ll try something else.”

Stinger moved one of his hands to his stomach.

“Naaga, you need to relax as much as you can. Try to take a deep breath.”

His breath was still coming in short gasps and he wasn’t sure he could do what Stinger asked. But he was so afraid of the infirmary, he tried. Stinger moved the hand in his hair down to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, rubbing hard, like when he massaged his back. The moan that came out of him had nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with pain. His breaths were a little deeper.

“Okay, you’re doing great.” Stinger kept rubbing his shoulder and moved the hand on his stomach lower. With the heel of his hand, he pressed down on his bladder.

Naaga cried out, the first sensation adding unbearably to the pain and pressure already there.

Then he was actually going.

A small sob came out of him, face pressing against Stinger’s chest. Stinger moved the hand on his shoulder to his hair again, holding him close, keeping up the steady pressure. After a moment or two, Stinger backed off the pressure a little and then removed his hand entirely. Naaga could keep going, didn’t need the additional help anymore. Stinger kissed the top of his head. “I’ll give you some privacy to finish up,” he whispered. He left the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

Naaga sobbed again, rubbing a hand over his hot face. 

He hated this. He couldn’t think, couldn’t process, didn’t even have control over his own body anymore. Too much of his time with Akenba was just a blank, just _gone_. He didn’t want anyone except Stinger touching him. At this point, he didn’t even really want Stinger to kiss him. He told himself he wanted to remember everything that happened, but that was not going to happen. He remembered dreams during that time and some of the things he did. (He did? He was no longer sure what had been him and what had been something else.)

He finished up and then moved to wash his hands. He then splashed some water over his face. He was hot and flushed, eyes red from the tears that kept coming. He leaned over the sink for a long time, trying to stop shaking.

Perhaps, more than anything, he was scared that he would remember something that would make Stinger hate him, leave him, not want a single thing to do with him anymore. He wasn’t entirely sure what he did, but he had injuries he couldn’t explain. That alone was enough to scare him. And so far, Stinger had just been patient and understanding. He assumed Stinger had not been assigned to any shifts, because he’d spent the last twenty-four hours with Naaga.

He couldn’t stay in the bathroom forever, so he stepped out into the room, turning the light off as he went. He left the door partially open, like they normally did.

Stinger stood up from where he had been sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey,” he said, voice warm and reassuring. “You need me to change your bandage? Get you something?”

Naaga shook his head, tears welling up again. He was so ashamed of everything he had done and he could not understand why Stinger was just looking after him, being caring and patient. When he was particularly upset and questioned why Stinger still present, Stinger had just looked at him, frowning and had said, “Naaga, you’ve done the exact same things for me. Why would I not do them for you?”

Now, Stinger crossed the room to him, one hand gently cupping his cheek, thumb running across his cheekbone. His other hand rested on his waist. He seemed to be ignoring his hot, sweaty skin. “Hey,” Stinger said softly. “Just take some deep breaths. You’ll be okay.”

He just shook his head, chest tight and sobs bubbling up. He wrapped his arms around Stinger as tightly as he dared, tears coming in spite of his efforts to stop. Stinger just adjusted the hand on his waist to wrap around his back, holding him close, other hand resting on his head, fingers in his hair. He didn’t know why, but that simple embrace made him begin to cry in earnest, face pressed against Stinger’s shoulder. 

Why had he done any of this? He didn’t even know anymore. Some part of him knew that going with Akenba seemed like the only option at the time, but now he knew that wasn’t true. Why? Stinger and Balance told him that Akenba had controlled him and his emotions, basically forcing him to do all the things he had done. He’d known he felt like something was controlling him, but how was he supposed to parse any of the bad things he did remember? Like hurting Balance?

“Shh,” Stinger was saying softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I hurt them.”

“That wasn’t you.”

“They’re scared of me.”

“No one is scared of you. Kotarou hugged you, remember?”

He just kept sobbing. All he seemed to be able to do was cry. He had a cut on his leg—upper thigh. And he also had bruises littering the insides of his thighs. He had no idea where either injury came from. Raptor had done a scan and said she’d get the analysis back soon, but he felt like those injuries could mean… something he didn’t want to think about. Akenba had him mostly fighting Indabees, he thought. Too much was a blank, so he had no idea what else she might have used him for.

And yet, he remembered the times she’d put him into a corner of his own mind and let him dream about Stinger. Why did those dreams feel more real than the things he’d been forced to do? He remembered the house that Stinger described, the blackout and the things that came during that time. He remembered Stinger telling him to fight, and then he told Stinger he wanted to get married.

“Breath,” Stinger was saying. “Just talk to me. What’s wrong?”

He swallowed a sob, trying to get himself under control. The first thing that came to mind was, “I’m hot.”

“Yeah, you’re overheated.” Stinger pulled back, running the back of his hand over his forehead and cheeks. 

He gently nudged Naaga to sit down on the edge of the bed and he complied, rubbing his eyes, sniffing hard. Stinger turned to the chest of drawers, pulling open one. He took out a pair of cotton pajama pants that were Naaga’s and then one of his own tank tops. He handed Naaga the clothes. “Change into those, please.”

“What?”

“You need to be in cooler clothes.” Stinger nodded towards the long-sleeved shirt and flannel pajama pants he was wearing currently. “I’ll go get a washcloth. Be right back.” Stinger went into the bathroom and deliberately shut the door most of the way.

Naaga furiously wiped away the tears. In a really short time, Stinger had realized he wasn’t comfortable being naked in front of him—changing clothes or anything really. Stinger hadn’t pushed about anything, just took Naaga’s lead. He was grateful for that small kindness. Stinger was taking a long time with the washcloth, so Naaga just quickly changed into the clothes. 

When Stinger came out, he set the washcloth on the footlocker and then pulled back the covers, leaving only a sheet and a lightweight blanket. 

“Lay down,” Stinger said softly.

He got into bed and Stinger sat on the edge, gently pressing the cold cloth against his skin. Naaga closed his eyes, letting out a shaky breath. 

“You’ll be okay,” Stinger was whispering. “I just don’t want you getting sick.”

The next morning, he woke up with a fever and a cough.

\------------------

“Are we worried he’s going to have a cardiac event from that much coffee?”

Spada followed Balance’s nod to where Stinger was hunched over the table at breakfast, brow furrowed as he studied his datapad, and both hands clutching a mug of coffee. 

“I was more worried about him catching Naaga’s cold,” Spada commented. “How many cups of coffee is he on?”

“I counted six, but I might have missed one.”

“Fine. I’ll cut him off.”

Spada strode over to the table and plucked the mug out of Stinger’s hands. Stinger blinked a few times, partially startled at someone taking the mug from him. He reeled back, looking up at Spada. _Porca miseria_ , he looked like hell. Dark circles were under both eyes, and he seemed pale and drawn. He was trying to give Spada a withering look, but the look was ruined by the yawn threatening to break out.

“No more coffee,” Spada said firmly. “You can have water or juice.”

“What?” Stinger was taking a minute to catch up.

“Water or juice,” Spada repeated.

“Water…” But Stinger sounded unsure.

“How’s Naaga?” Balance asked, clapping Stinger on the shoulder a little too hard. Spada got a glass of water and set it down in front of Stinger.

“He’s still sick,” Stinger said cautiously.

“He’s been sick for three days,” Balance shot back.

“Is he getting any better?” Spada interjected, giving Balance a warning look that the mechanical lifeform promptly ignored.

“Not really,” Stinger replied with a long sigh. “He’s never been sick before, so he doesn’t know how to rest and get better. He’s really… stressed.”

“No shit,” Balance muttered. “What’s he doing?”

“Doing?”

“Yeah! What’s he doing all day?”

“Crying.” The moment Stinger uttered the word he looked horrified that he’d said that. His eyes widened, and he immediately backpedaled with, “You know, he’s stressed and that—”

“What are you doing when he cries?” Balance interrupted. 

“I’m not letting him cry in a corner,” Stinger snapped. 

Balance looked like he was about to throw some other thinly veiled accusation out there, so Spada just stopped the whole thing with, “Have you talked to him about coming to meals? Getting some normalcy back? That would probably help him get over the cold faster.”

“I wanted to tell him to get up and come down here,” Balance said with a nod towards Stinger, “But this one keeps getting in the way and insisting I leave him alone.”

“You can tell him that,” Stinger muttered.

“I can’t tell him anything, because he knows he can just run to you and you’ll demand that everyone leave him alone.”

“So?”

“I think what Balance is trying to say,” Spada said, “is that Naaga maybe doesn’t need coddling right now. As much as it hurts, he might need a… stiff upper lip?”

Luckily, Stinger seemed to know what that turn of phrase meant. He frowned and looked down at his datapad. He looked exhausted. Spada figured that Naaga was not sleeping well because of the cough and if Naaga wasn’t sleeping for long, then Stinger definitely wasn’t. Lack of sleep and close proximity to someone with a cold, didn’t matter how many immune boosts Stinger took, he was getting extremely sick too and sooner rather than later.

“So what you do want me to do?” Stinger asked softly.

He looked so frustrated and _sad. Che cavolo_ , Stinger really wanted to protect Naaga and doing something that would distress him, however necessary, was going to be very difficult for him.

“Tell him he’s coming to lunch or Garou and I are carrying him to lunch.”

“What?” Stinger asked.

“What?” Balance echoed.

“You need help carrying him?”

Balance stared at Stinger for a long moment before saying, “He’s taller than me and squirmy. I need a second person to make sure he can’t wiggle away.”

Stinger’s expression clearly said he was still confused but was too tired to ask any more questions. “Lunch, huh?”

“Then get him to shower and put the chest rub on him.”

“That would help his cough. He might be able to sleep for a couple of hours.”

Spada cut in with, “And then maybe we can put on a movie in the rec room?” He paused. “I can make some of the salt and lime popcorn.”

Stinger’s eyes narrowed. “Naaga doesn’t like that popcorn.”

“It’s not for Naaga.”

“Oh.” 

Stinger really needed to go to sleep.

Balance patted Stinger’s back. “Get him to lunch. Garou and I will be standing by.”

Spada hoped that Stinger would be able to accomplish this—and he would. Stinger just spent so much of his time defending Naaga from other people that this was going to be a reversal. Not bad, just a milestone for them. And Tsurugi was eager to get as much information from Naaga as possible about Don Armage and Stinger had been putting him off by claiming that Naaga was too sick, not in a good state to relive any of that right now. And Tsurugi had been patient. For now.

“Holy moly!”

Speaking of Tsurugi… 

Balance glanced towards the door, head tilt indicating he wanted to know why Tsurugi was being so loud. Stinger’s eyes got wide and he jumped up from the table, wildly looking for an exit. 

“Back door by the pantry,” Spada told both of them. “I’ll distract him with a chocolate croissant.”

The twin expressions wanting to know how that worked would have been amusing any other day. Spada shooed them away.

He hoped this would work.

\-------------------

Naaga was curled on the edge of the bed, body shaking with harsh coughs, tears leaking out his eyes. Stinger wanted to relent, tell him he didn’t have to. He could stay in their room and Stinger would just bring him food. But three days of this persistent cough. Stinger was worried he was going to end up hospitalized or worse.

“I can’t,” Naaga gasped in between coughs and sobs. “The others—”

“Want to see you,” Stinger cut him off. “Especially Balance.”

“Stinger…”

“Naaga, your choices right now are to go to lunch on your own, or be carried there.”

Stinger hated himself for every word that came out of his mouth. He wanted to let Naaga hide until he felt balanced enough to face everyone, which he would have done had the stupid cold not happened. On top of feeling ashamed and humiliated about everything that had happened, he had, quite literally, never been sick before in his life. And Stinger wasn’t counting his allergic reaction or any injuries from fights or training. Naaga had never had a cold or a fever or stomach bug—and Stinger was amazed he’d not picked up something in all his travels with Balance. The stress had to be what brought on this cold, and the stress level was not going down.

He also hated to admit that Spada and Balance had a point. Maybe some normalcy was exactly what Naaga needed, realizing that the others weren’t going to treat him any differently. Because he was so quiet and impassive, Stinger sometimes forgot (foolishly) that Naaga was stubborn. Extremely stubborn. In a lot of ways, Naaga could make Stinger and Champ look like mild-mannered compromising people. And Naaga was so stoic with his stubbornness. Just a quiet refusal to do what someone else wanted. He let out a long breath.

Naaga wasn’t crying, not like he had been. But his face was pressed into the pillow, and the tears were less from sobbing and more from stress. Stinger sat down on the edge of the bed, running his fingers through Naaga’s hair. He’d bathed in the last three days, but could really benefit from a long, hot shower with a lot of scrubbing. 

Stinger reached under the bed, locating Naaga’s slippers. “Come on,” he said softly. “Spada made some soup. Chicken noodle. Just come have some soup and bread for lunch.”

“What if I get the others sick?” His voice was muffled, but still miserable.

Stinger smiled a little, continuing to run his fingers through his hair. “I’ve spent the past three days with you, and I’m not sick. Raptor’s been passing out immune boosts every day.” He nudged him a little. “Besides, you have the face masks, if you’re worried. And you can sit between me and Balance to eat. I’m fine and Balance doesn’t catch organic bugs.”

Naaga was silent. He was running out of excuses, and he knew it.

And then another coughing fit hit him.

Stinger rubbed his back as he got through the latest round. His coughs sounded like they were coming from deep in his chest, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath, and like the coughing wasn’t actually productive. Raptor had him on antibiotics and cough suppressants, and, in Stinger’s experience, those were usually effective. But three days later, and Naaga’s cough didn’t sound any better.

Naaga kind of collapsed a little against the bed when the coughing passed. He was still loosely curled up, but dropped his limbs a little. He rolled to his side. Stinger brushed his hair out of his eyes. “You’re not going to stop, are you?” he asked weakly, desperately. 

The question was phrased oddly, but Stinger just replied with, “You really don’t want to be carried there by Balance and Garou.”

Naaga looked exhausted. “They are not out there.”

“Oh, they are.” Maybe. He assumed that’s what Balance meant by standing by.

He stood up, moving Naaga’s slippers so he could see them. He then grabbed his hoodie off the footlocker and handed the jacket to Naaga.

Naaga seemed to have hit a point where he was too tired to argue. He allowed Stinger to pull him into a sitting position, and put his arms through his hoodie. He swung his legs off the bed and put on the slippers, and then grabbed one of the face masks, putting that on as well. His eyes were red and watery, and he looked resigned. He let Stinger help him to his feet and wrap an arm around his waist. The cold was messing with his balance—Stinger had seen him sway a little too much on his feet.

When they got in the hallway, Stinger was a little surprised to actually see Balance and Garou leaning against the wall. Garou looked supremely confused, which likely meant that Balance had not bothered to explain a damn thing about this. Balance appeared pleased that Naaga was walking to lunch on his own steam (sort of.) Naaga, on the other hand, turned to Stinger with wide eyes when he saw the pair of them. He had expected that to be a bluff. 

_You and me both._

Naaga pressed a little closer to him as they got closer to the galley.

And no one made a big deal about Naaga being at lunch. Someone (probably Spada) had reeled in Tsurugi, so he looked like he was itching to ask Naaga questions about Don Armage, but was keeping silent. Balance skipped ahead of them into the galley and sat down at the end of the table, motioning for Naaga to sit next to him. Stinger lowered Naaga into that chair, and then sat on his other side. Raptor sat down across from Naaga, distractedly looking at her datapad, which kept the other organic people far enough away that Naaga relaxed a little. 

“Hi Naaga!” Kotarou said, taking the seat on Stinger’s other side.

Naaga just gave him a small wave.

Lunch was, thankfully, uneventful. Spada had chicken and pasta salad for everyone else, and the soup and bread for Naaga. Stinger gave Kotarou a withering look as he attempted to pick the peas out of his pasta salad, which was enough for Kotarou to stop his vendetta against vegetables and just eat. Tsurugi was telling Spada some story about being president of the Space Federation that Spada seemed doubtful was entirely true. (Stinger found it interesting that, where Tsurugi was concerned, none of them had a problem believing his stories about fighting Don Armage. But when he talked about united galaxies and politics and whatnot, everyone seemed to think he was bluffing at least part of that.) Hame, Garou and Lucky were talking about some training exercise, but Hame kept shooting concerned looks down the table to Naaga.

However, both Tsurugi (coming from a place of wanting more intel) and Hame (coming from a place of concern) left Naaga alone, and they just left after lunch with no fuss. (Other than Spada just cheerfully confirming that everyone had the afternoon off, so they were watching a movie in the rec room in an hour.)

Back in their room, Stinger just pushed him towards the bathroom. “Go take a shower and stay in there until the water starts to get cold.”

When Naaga moved to get clean clothes, Stinger stopped him.

“No, just come out in a towel. I know you have bruises that are still bothering you, and you need the chest rub. That will help with the coughing.”

Naaga looked distressed. “But—”

Stinger just moved forward, gently cupping his face. “Naaga, I don’t know what happened to you or what Akenba did to you, but it’s just me. I want you to feel better. You know the salve helps with the bruises and the chest rub will make it easier for you to breath.”

Naaga looked a little watery. He was scared. Stinger had no idea what he was scared of—he didn’t care what Naaga was forced to do when he was with Akenba. And Raptor had run a medical panel when Naaga got back. He was clear of diseases. She’d also done a scan for his injuries—the cut on his leg was healing slowly, as were the bruises. She was supposed to get the analysis on them back soon. Maybe that analysis would relieve some of Naaga’s anxiety.

“Naaga, it’s just me,” he repeated.

He nodded slowly. And then took off the hoodie, his slippers and face mask. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

Stinger waited until he heard the shower turn on. He put Naaga’s hoodie with their laundry, and then stripped the bed, putting fresh sheets on. He found some clean clothes for Naaga and put them on the corner of the bed. He then opened the footlocker and extracted the completed sweater. Not quite Naaga’s birthday yet, but he had plenty of other things he was working on that he could give Naaga on his actual birthday. (He knew for a fact that Balance wanted to plan a ridiculous party, but Stinger kept telling him to back off. Which now led into Balance informing Stinger that he was a buzzkill.) 

He sat down on the edge of the bed, holding the sweater.

He’d had too much down time during their journey to the past to think about Naaga, and hope that the others could get him back, that this was something they could reverse. The journey was taking up most of Raptor’s time and energy, so she didn’t bother to assign those of them there to shifts. Which meant outside of routine check ins, their time was their own. So Stinger had been able to easily complete the sweater, finish up a second project and then make good progress on some others. Just as well, once they got back, he had no idea what awaited them. 

A small smile spread across his face. He needed to tell Naaga about the traditions around the winter solstice and New Year’s. Naaga liked learning about new holidays and traditions, but could get frustrated if he thought he wasn’t holding up some obligation of his own to the celebration (like bringing a gift for someone else.) Just as well they hadn’t hit any winter holidays yet, so no one was competing with their system’s customs. 

The shower water turned off.

Right on time for the water to start getting cold.

He stood up, putting the sweater under Naaga’s other clothes.

Naaga came out of the bathroom, holding his clothes in a bundle and a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, and he smelled like the sandalwood soap and shampoo Stinger had gotten a while back. (Seemed like the thing to get at the time. And, honestly, he had no idea why they bothered having two sets of soap in the shower anymore. They both just used the first thing they grabbed.) Naaga was shaking slightly, small coughs coming out.

This needed to go quickly. 

He motioned for Naaga to sit down on the edge of the bed, and then got the salve and chest rub out of the first aid kit. Naaga watched him warily as he opened the salve and knelt on the floor in front of him. “Hey,” he said, reaching up and tracing Naaga’s cheekbone. “Naaga, I want you to get better.” Naaga still looked distressed, but nodded before another coughing fit wracked his chest.

Stinger stood up and sat down next to him on the bed, rubbing his back until the coughs passed. Naaga was wheezing a little, but allowed Stinger to loosen the towel and push it out of the way enough to see his thighs, where the bruises were. He nudged Naaga’s legs apart just a little, and Naaga bit his lip, face drawing up as he tried to steady himself. Stinger rubbed the salve on quickly and efficiently, trying to keep things as fast and impersonal as possible. The cut was doing well, already just faded to a pink mark on his skin, no need for a bandage. He stood up and handed Naaga the pants—just a pair of loose black athletic pants that Naaga used to work out in. Naaga pulled the pants on a little too quickly, setting the towel aside, immediately looking calmer. 

Whatever that meant wasn’t good.

Stinger put the salve away, and got out the chest rub. The stuff smelled terrible. Stinger wasn’t even putting it on himself and he could feel the fumes clearing out his sinuses. Naaga could not stop the face at the smell. “It helps, I promise,” was all Stinger could say.

“It smells awful,” Naaga replied faintly. 

“That how you know it works.”

Naaga looked doubtful, but allowed Stinger to rub the stuff on his chest and then his back. Less than a minute, and Stinger could hear the wheezing improve. And the next cough sounded like it was loosening something and not just being annoying. Why had he not insisted Naaga use this stuff three days ago? He handed Naaga the clean t-shirt, which he pulled on quickly.

Stinger put away the chest rub and then picked up the sweater. He sat down next to Naaga, turning him so they were facing each other. Naaga looked at the sweater and then back to Stinger with a small frown.

“I was going to save this for your birthday,” Stinger started softly, “but after everything and now this,” hoping Naaga knew he meant the cold, “I want you to have it now.”

He handed the sweater to Naaga, watching as Naaga unfolded the sweater, studying the garment in front of him. Soft, gray yarn, cardigan-style. The buttons were all black, but mismatched, because he’d scavenged them from clothes beyond salvaging around the ship. Naaga was running his hands over the yarn slowly. Gods, Stinger thought to the scarf in the pack that Balance never had to give Naaga, which Stinger had unpacked once they got back, and the necklace in the lockbox in the desk. He kept thinking of things he could make for Naaga, and he wasn’t intimidated by that fact.

Naaga was crying again, but not out of fear or stress or shame.

Stinger just pulled him into his arms, holding him as tightly as he dared. “Thank you,” Naaga whispered against his shoulder, wrapping his arms around Stinger.

They stayed like that for a while. Naaga was sniffling a little, but between lunch, the shower and now the chest rub, he seemed calmer, like in just that short amount of time he felt better. And he likely did. Gods, Stinger had dealt with illness his entire life, so he’d not been sure what to do when Naaga had been scared of the cough and said he’d never been sick before. He meant that literally, as he did with most things that he said. And he wasn’t talking about what had happened with Akenba. He said he didn’t remember a lot of it, and Stinger found that easy to believe. But what he did remember clearly scared him. Stinger had lost maybe an hour or two to his brother’s poison. Naaga had lost weeks.

Naaga pulled back, wiping his eyes on the back of his hand. As he pulled on the sweater, he just said, “Why are there holes in the sleeves?”

Stinger smiled. “For your thumbs. So you can pull the sleeves down over your hands.” He’d made the sleeves longer for that purpose. When Naaga got cold, he didn’t like wearing gloves, and had worn through the cuffs of his hoodie pulling them over his hands.

Naaga tried that out and looked pleased.

“We’re going to the movie, aren’t we?”

Stinger nodded. Naaga looked resigned.

“Take your meds,” Stinger added. “No one will think it’s odd if you sleep during the movie.”

And no one did.

The movie was some ridiculous comedy that Balance had picked out that Stinger thought was stupid. They settled on a small couch on the side of the room. Hame, Kotarou, Lucky and Garou were sitting on the floor to watch the movie on the screen in the rec room. Balance, Spada and Tsurugi were back on the big couch. Raptor was in an armchair, still studying her datapad. (The ship needed extensive repairs and Raptor was not sure where they needed to start, so she’d been doing analysis for days now.) Naaga was curled against his side, head on his shoulder at first. Then he shifted so his arm was slung over Stinger’s waist and he was pressed more firmly against him. Finally, his head was in Stinger’s lap and he was breathing evenly, dead asleep, no coughing.

Stinger had one hand on the top of Naaga’s head and the other on his back. He leaned his head against the back of the couch, closing his eyes.

When he opened his eyes, the movie was off and the rec room was clear of people. Except for Balance, who was lurking behind their couch.

“What?” Stinger asked, no real ire in his tone because he had to stifle a yawn.

“Almost dinner.” Balance shrugged. “Figured you guys might want to wake up to come eat. Spada said he made Naaga some chicken tortilla soup.”

“Is that spicy?”

“Yeah. He thinks it will get rid of any lingering congestion.” Balance stood up, leaning over the couch. He ran a hand over Naaga’s shoulder, and Stinger realized he was feeling the sweater. “Did you make that?”

Stinger nodded.

“That’s nice.” Balance sounded impressed.

Naaga stirred and then stretched his arms out.

Balance leaned back, pointing down at Naaga. “You put thumb holes in it? Very well done.” He tilted his head, and then added, “Raptor said she sent you a message you better read. See you guys at dinner!” And he was off and out the door.

Naaga was still dozing, so Stinger pulled up his messages on his Seiza Blaster. The message from Raptor was about the analysis of Naaga’s injuries. He read the message once, and then read the message again. Something loosened in his chest at the same time that something tightened. 

Another stretch and then Naaga opened his eyes. Stinger looked down at him, gently brushing his hair out of his eyes. He smiled a little. Gods, how had he fallen so in love with this man? “You awake enough to listen to something?” Stinger asked.

Naaga nodded, and then sat up. Their legs were touching. Naaga was just looking at him, expression neutral and open. He hadn’t bothered with the face mask this time, especially since the chest rub had reduced his coughing to almost nothing. Stinger was reminded of the night he got back after everything with his brother. They’d been in this room in the middle of the night, talking about the dreams Stinger kept having, their future together.

“Raptor got the analysis back on your injuries,” he said softly.

Naaga’s expression clouded as he took a shaky breath. “I asked her to send it to you.”

“I know.” Stinger reached out, taking his hand, threading their fingers together. “All your injuries were self-inflicted.”

Naaga frowned further, clearly wracking his brain.

Stinger continued, “One of the psychiatrists at Rebellion thinks you might have been doing it subconsciously, trying to snap yourself out of it. The older injuries are minor, and the more recent ones are worse. She thinks you escalated when things didn’t work.”

“I don’t think Akenba had me hurt myself,” Naaga said slowly, tentatively. “I remember her making me hurt others.”

“It makes sense. You were hurting yourself some place Akenba was not going to see.”

A tear rolled down Naaga’s cheek. “I thought she might have made me…”

When Stinger realized what Naaga meant, he reached out, pulling him close. “No, Naaga. There’s no signs of that, nothing. And you said Akenba wasn’t interested in that.” He leaned back, thumb going to trace Naaga’s cheekbone. “That’s what you were afraid of?”

Another tear fell. “If it was true, I thought you…” he trailed off, looking away.

Stinger’s fingers were on his chin, turning his gaze back. “Naaga, even if that was true, we’d work through that together.” His thumb traced Naaga’s lower lip. “When are you going to realize that you’re stuck with me for a long time?”

Naaga just closed the small distance between them, pressing close, and Stinger just wrapped his arms around him, pressing a kiss to his hair.

Then Naaga started coughing again, not the deep hacking cough of before, mild.

“Come on,” Stinger said, standing up and pulling Naaga to his feet. “You need more meds and chest rub. And apparently Spada made you special soup.”

\-------------------

The next night, Spada was finishing up putting away the dishes after dinner when Stinger and Naaga walked into the galley. They had been at dinner, and Spada was struck by how much calmer Naaga looked and how he seemed to have rapidly turned the corner with the cold. He wasn’t really coughing anymore and had a little more color in his face. 

Stinger began to put together a travel container of tea, getting the hot water and then the tea bags that Naaga liked. He drizzled honey directly into the brew and then closed the container, tea bags still in place. Ah yes, Spada remembered, Naaga liked strong tea.

Naaga was holding a blanket to his chest.

“Where are you guys off to?” Spada asked.

“Out,” Stinger replied shortly, taking Naaga’s hand.

Naaga’s expression was subtle, but Spada caught the slightly exasperated look. “Going to watch the stars,” Naaga added.

And they now had to go outside because ORION-gou was grounded. (No more star-gazing in the Voyager Bay or just outside any window on the ship.)

Then they were gone.

Well, at least Stinger had not caught the cold and Naaga was getting better. Tsurugi would want to question him soon—very soon. Chocolate croissants were not going to hold him off for much longer. 

Stinger seemed a lot more focused since they got back from the past. Spada assumed that was because they got Naaga back and now all his energy was focused on taking care of Naaga. And Stinger had not even blinked at doing so. He might have been upset and worried and disappointed that Naaga ended up with Akenba, but now knowing that she had manipulated him, Stinger was just glad to have him back. 

At lunch, Stinger and Naaga had left early. Kotarou was still sitting at the table and had just said, “I kind of miss having Aniki around.”

“He’s got a lot right now,” Balance had replied, ruffling Kotarou’s hair. “He doesn’t mean to spend less time with you.”

Kotarou just shook his head. “It’s okay. Naaga needs him more right now.”

_Naaga needs him more right now._

When had the ten-year-old gotten to be the wisest of them all?

\------------------

The clearing was not far from the ship, but around enough corners that there was no artificial light, just the moonlight. Stinger was leaning back against a tree, and Naaga snuggled into his warmth. His back was against Stinger’s chest and he was between his legs. The night was quiet and peaceful, only the ambient noise and their breathing. Stinger had one arm around his chest and the others around his waist, holding him close.

“Stinger?”

“Mmm?” He sounded lethargic, but warm.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, rubbing a hand across his chest briefly.

He didn’t really know, so he just leaned back a little, adjusting himself so he could press a long, chaste kiss to Stinger’s lips. Stinger responded, one hand going to cup his cheek. They broke apart, Stinger staying in his space, chasing his lips. Naaga lifted his own hand, gently tracing Stinger’s jawline, fingers brushing his lips. He looked up to his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“I know,” Stinger replied, hand running the length of his back. “And believe me, I am sympathetic to making bad decisions that seem like the only option at the time.”

“I shouldn’t have even thought about going with her.”

“Balance thinks she infected you during the barbeque. So it wasn’t your fault.”

They were silent for a moment, before Stinger leaned in again, catching him open-mouthed and deepening the kiss. Naaga’s breath hitched into the kiss and his hands rested on Stinger’s shoulder, fingers grasping his shirt. He’d been so desperate to get back to Stinger that he’d almost forgotten how good simple things like this felt. 

When they broke apart, Naaga just said, “I think we should have sex soon.”

Stinger smiled a little. “Oh really?” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “How soon?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow morning?” The smile grew a little and one of Stinger’s hands was under his sweater and shirt, palm hot against the skin on his back.

“If I’m not coughing.”

“You’re not coughing now,” Stinger pointed out. His hand ran along his side and slid to the sensitive skin on his stomach. Naaga inhaled sharply. Stinger’s fingers played along the waistband of his pants, dipping in slightly but going no further.

“Tomorrow morning,” he replied firmly. 

Stinger removed his hand and wrapped both arms around him against, pulling him close against his chest. Naaga went easily and willingly, basking in the warmth of Stinger’s body. He rested his hands on Stinger’s arms. Stinger pressed a kiss to his forehead. Naaga closed his eyes, relaxing against him. They were supposed to be watching the stars, but right now he just wanted to be close, feeling Stinger’s heartbeat and even breathing. 

\------------------

The next morning Raptor had them all on shifts to start repairs.

And they were beyond late to breakfast, because one time turned into two and then a third time in the shower. Balance made a snarky comment about the reunion sex being almost a week late.

It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. Episode 31! Naaga cried. Balance cried. Hame cried. Everyone cried. We definitely had an extended story arc here, and then I had some angsty chapters in there, but now we have the conclusion to the Angst Hard series. Now time for some fluff, right everyone?
> 
> As always, huge, HUGE thank you to my readers! I love that you all are on this journey with me, and your kudos and comments mean the world to me. I love hearing from you all. Drop me a comment or line every so often, here or on tumblr! And since we are headed to some fluffy times, feel free to let me know if there is something (or a scenario) you'd like to see this fic explore. I'm open to suggestions! You all are the best!
> 
> We'll see where the fluff takes us, and see you all in another week or two. Have a fabulous week and peace out! Stay tuned!


	22. Are We All We Are?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That doesn't change that ORION-gou is beyond repair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a little bit behind, but here's an update! Set (partly) during episode 32, and then between 32 and 33. Enjoy!

**22/ Are We All We Are?**   
_We are the people that you’ll never get the best of…_

_“That doesn’t change the fact that ORION-gou is beyond repair.”_

_“If we lose power completely, then we lose water. We can’t stay here with no water.”_

_“But we need the ship to get to the Crux System to find Don Armage.”_

_“Face it, we’re not going in this ship.”_

_“So what should we do?”_

_“Everyone needs to get their personal things and store them in their Voyager. We then need to get as much other equipment as we can—food, tents, weapons, survival gear, whatever we can fit on the Voyagers.”_

_“Ryuu Voyager is huge. We can store most of those supplies there.”_

_“Good. Everyone get their things and put them on their Voyager. Then we need to break up into groups and get the rest of the supplies.”_

_“Hame and Raptor can help Spada with the food.”_

_“Stinger, take Kotarou and Naaga to get any camping or survival gear.”_

_“Lucky and Tsurugi can go get the weapons.”_

_“Garou and Balance help get everything loaded into the Voyagers.”_

_“But… this place is our home. We’re not coming back?”_

_“We don’t know that yet, but we have to be prepared. We can’t be stranded on Earth with no food or supplies.”_

_“What about Dogyun?”_

_“He’ll attack again soon!”_

_“One hour. We have one hour to get this done. Stop standing around and pack!”_

\------------------

That had been ten minutes ago.

Luckily for Stinger and Naaga, neither of them had much other than clothes. Stinger had a few weapons and personal items, Naaga only had the things Stinger made for him. Balance had taken storage containers and bags out of an equipment bay—passing those out to everyone first along with carts and dollies for their things and then the supplies. The instructions for personal supplies had been brief—everything in one’s quarters, including bedding, leave furniture and appliances. Most of them had things that could be quickly packed away, but months for most of them (and years for others of them) on ORION-gou meant that they’d made the ship home. He hated to think about the stuff that had to be in Spada’s and Hame’s rooms.

Stinger and Naaga worked quickly and together. Stinger was emptying the drawers—chest, nightstand and desks—and setting the things on the bed. Naaga had the footlocker open and was packing the bulkier things, like their bedding, into the footlocker along with things they wouldn’t need right away. (Naaga didn’t even question the canvas bag of half-finished projects that Stinger handed him. He just packed the bag in the footlocker.) Stinger then moved on to the bathroom, gathering all their things from the bathroom, including the towels. 

Where items got packed depended on the priority. They had packs for the things they would need immediately—change of clothes, pajamas, hygiene items, datapads and things like Stinger’s pocketknife. The duffel bags had longer term items—more clothes, extra shoes, a few more of Stinger’s weapons from the room, and things like the penguin. The footlocker was easily going to hold everything else.

They were done in record time. They loaded the footlocker onto a dolly and then put the duffel bags on top. Naaga paused as they were about the leave the room.

“What’s wrong?” Stinger asked softly, hand on his lower back.

Naaga shrugged. “It’s silly, but there were a lot of firsts for us in this room.”

“I know. This ship, it’s become home. That’s hard to leave.”

“Where are we going to stay?”

That was the practical question to ask, and not how they were going to get another ship. Rebellion likely did not have another ship like ORION-gou available for their use, and requisitioning another ship was going to take time. Rebellion would need to identify a ship and then send the ship to them. And if the ship was coming from a system far away… days would turn into weeks. 

“We’re getting all the gear so we can set up camp wherever we need to.”

The Voyagers were conducive for travel, but not so much for living. And the Voyagers were not a wise thing to take on long journeys, like the one to the Crux System. They could take shorter journeys in the Voyagers and then set up camp somewhere in the mean time. There were too many unknowns. They had a lot of resources, but none that would really work for their situation. 

Naaga turned towards him. He’d been through so much recently, and all this upheaval was not going to help. He looked calm, but Stinger could see the anxiety shining in his eyes. He closed the small distance between them and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. Naaga pressed close, hanging on for longer, fingers curled into his jacket.

When they broke apart, Stinger just gently brushed Naaga’s hair out of his eyes. “We’ll be okay,” he whispered. “We can get through this.”

Naaga nodded. “I’ll take all this down to the Voyager Bay. You should go check on Kotarou.”

Stinger kissed him again, and then they went opposite directions. Their things, along with Kotarou’s, would easily fit into Hebitsukai Voyager, freeing Sasori and Kuma to haul more equipment. Kotarou had made good progress packing his things, but had made a mess out of his bedding and towels. “In the bin,” Stinger told him as refolded the bedding and stuffed the blankets into the bin, while Kotarou tried to make the towels neater. Kotarou already had his pack ready to go, his stuffed monkey tucked under one arm. 

“Do you have everything else?” Stinger asked him. “Everything out of the drawers? The bathroom?”

Kotarou nodded, clutching his monkey a little tighter. “I didn’t bring that much with me.”

Stinger rested a hand on the top of his head for a moment. All of Kotarou’s things fit in the bin and his pack—he’d need to store the monkey somewhere, but Stinger was not telling him that until they got down to the Voyager Bay with his things. Stinger had the passing thought that Kotarou would need new clothes soon. What he had brought with him wouldn’t last forever—if nothing else, he’d likely outgrow them in a few months.

“Stinger?”

That was his Seiza Blaster. Naaga. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Champ’s and the Commander’s things?”

“Packed up before they stayed in the past. Just need to go to their rooms and get them.”

“Okay. Balance is headed there now.”

Stinger and Kotarou did one last check of his room. Satisfied that everything was packed, they headed down to the Voyager Bay, passing Garou carrying a huge rucksack and Balance pushing one cart while pulling another. (The smaller cart had Champ’s things, and everything Balance was dragging had to belong to Shou Lonpou. No surprise there.) Kotarou took the cart with Champ’s things.

In the Voyager Bay, Kotarou handed Stinger his pack and his stuffed monkey, and he followed Balance to stow the things in Ryuu Voyager. Naaga met him near Hebitsukai Voyager, taking the bin from him. They went to the storage hold. On most of the Voyagers, the storage holds were small, big enough for some supplies, maybe a cot and a refresher (which was a combination shower and toilet in small spaces on ships.) But that was about it. Naaga had their things stacked and secured. Adding Kotarou’s to the mix took no time at all. 

Naaga took one look at the monkey and said, “Put it in the bag with your penguin.”

Everything secured, they collected Kotarou and headed to a storage bay with bins. Stinger pulled things out, while Naaga and Kotarou packed them into bins. Tents, air mattresses, outdoor cooking gear (including travel burners, grill and stove), fuel for the stoves, water purification supplies, lanterns, flashlights, tarps, rope… pretty much anything Stinger could think of that might be useful. They had knives and axes, along with matches and lighters with these supplies, so he grabbed those too. The foldable chairs, tables and benches went last. No more storage bins, they stacked them on top of the cart and rolled everything down to the Voyager Bay.

Where Hame was talking to Balance, and looked worried.

“What’s wrong?” Stinger asked as Naaga and Kotarou pushed the supplies to Sasori Voyager.

“Spada,” Balance replied.

“He hasn’t packed his things,” Hame added. “He’s worried about the food.”

Stinger blinked. “We need nonperishable. Everything else we can replace.”

“And the kitchen utensils.”

Another blink. “We have the camp cook gear.”

Hame’s expression very clearly said, _you’ve met Spada, right?_

Stinger grabbed Balance. “We’ll go get him and the food. Help Naaga and Kotarou.”

The disaster in the kitchen made him want to grab Spada and shake him.

Upon surveying the chaos, Balance just got his Seiza Blaster and said, “Naaga, get up here when you’re done with the gear.”

“Garou’s here. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Balance had gotten as far as stopping Spada when Naaga appeared.

“What the hell is this?” Naaga muttered.

Stinger turned towards him, impressed. He’d never heard Naaga swear before, and would have kissed him on the spot. But their time was running out. He was not sure that there even was a method to Spada’s madness here. He appeared to have pulled things out of the pantry, but not necessarily the freezer or fridge. He’d also started going through the kitchen utensils and pots and pans, but that was half done too. 

“We have two cold boxes and one freeze box,” Stinger said. “We need produce, dairy and anything already prepared.”

Naaga nodded and grabbed one of the boxes, heading into the fridge.

Stinger grabbed the freeze box. They were about the size of a normal storage bin, but had cooling technology in the walls. As long as the battery cells lasted, the boxes would keep cold and would keep whatever food was in them to their expiration date. Balance was trying to talk to Spada.

“Stinger and Naaga will get the cold stuff,” he was saying.

“But we’re not going to have enough!”

“Spada, we need enough for a week or so. Then we can get more food.”

“How?”

Spada sounded truly distressed at the idea that they might not be able to easily requisition food from Rebellion. Which was a little odd, seeing as Spada was perfectly comfortable shopping for food on their current planet. And they’d spent enough time on Earth, that certainly should not have been a worry of his. 

“Somehow,” Balance replied. “Stinger will hunt something if he has to.” A pause, and then, “Which of this stuff is your personal stuff?”

That distracted Spada enough to identify a knife set and a few other items.

Stinger just filled the freeze box with frozen meat, some things that looked like dough (bread or rolls, maybe), frozen vegetables, and some ice cream. (He figured they could eat the ice cream tonight and that might calm down anyone anxious about having to move off the ship.)

Once done with that, he helped Naaga fill the other cold box, and then moved on to the pantry items. Throughout everything, Stinger kept glancing up to Spada, who was usually a lot more focused and, for lack of a better term, calm. He was able to roll with the punches way better than this. Perhaps, as much as Stinger didn’t have a lot of permanence around ORION-gou until Naaga, Spada had been here for months before that with Hame and Champ. And Spada was much more likely to try to make anything homey, especially if he saw something long-term around it.

But between Dogyun and the impending power failure, they didn’t have time to indulge nostalgia, no matter how warranted. 

Finished with the pantry items, Naaga was saying to Balance, “Can you take this down to the Voyager Bay?”

“Which one?”

“Sasori. Anything that doesn’t fit there goes in Kuma.”

“Sasori was pretty packed with the camp gear.”

“Mostly Kuma then. We want it in a Voyager one of us pilots. It will be better for Ryuu and Oushi to orbit instead of landing with us.”

Stinger hauled the final bin onto the cart, before finally realizing Spada was clutching a smaller bin that appeared to be full of spices. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Spices from home.”

Shit.

“Balance, put those in Kajiki,” Naaga was saying softly.

Stinger grabbed Spada’s sleeve, leading him out of the galley. “You have to pack your things.”

Luckily, Spada did not have near the amount of tchotchke that Stinger would have originally pegged him for. Definitely more stuff than Stinger and Naaga combined, but Stinger had been expecting piles of stuff and this was manageable. Stinger was emptying drawers and handing the items to Naaga, who was just as quickly packing them into bins and duffel bags. Spada appeared to have roused himself a little better, and was getting his things into a duffel bag and putting together a pack.

As they rolled Spada’s things down to the Voyager Bay, Stinger paused, looking back across the hallway with the living quarters.

Home was a funny thing.

But they needed to evacuate. No amount of fond memories would help in the face of no water.

He continued to the Voyager Bay.

\-------------------

Setting up camp had gone quickly. The remote area had enough tree cover (combined with lack of Jark Matter surveillance drones) that they could set up camp there for the night, including lanterns and a campfire if needed. Pitching tents in the dark had been a pain in the ass. Stinger finally had to tell Lucky and Balance to quit trying to help, so he and Kotarou could finish with the tents quickly. (Kotarou was wearing a head lamp and didn’t seem bothered when Hame gave him a strange look.)

With ten of them, and Balance not sleeping (not really—he’d said he’d power down in a camp chair), that left nine people. Stinger and Kotarou set up four tents. The two-person tents ended up being Hame and Raptor, Lucky and Garou, and then him and Naaga. The three-person tent was Kotarou, Spada and Tsurugi. Kotarou had seemed a little disappointed with that decision, but brightened because Tsurugi was telling some ridiculous story about death worms and Spada had the rest of the cookies from the package that got opened before dinner.

Before dinner, after the tents were pitched and Spada was working on the food, Naaga had been irritated while moving the supplies Spada needed. Balance had been watching Stinger build a campfire to heat water for the dishes.

“Holy moly,” Tsurugi was muttering as he approached them.

“Shh!” Balance had shot back, still staring at Stinger. “He does this with no matches. It’s freaking amazing!”

At that point, Stinger had gotten the tinder to catch enough that he just looked up at Balance. “Where’s the grate?”

Balance held up the metal grate from where he’d been leaning on the thing.

“Is Naaga okay?”

Both Stinger and Balance followed Tsurugi’s gaze to Naaga, and then waved him away.

“He’s fine,” Stinger had replied.

“He’s just hungry,” Balance had added.

“Shouldn’t he eat?” Tsurugi said with a frown. “Spada has the first round of food.”

Balance let out an audible gasp. “Don’t do that!”

Stinger stood up. The fire had caught enough that all Balance needed to do was continue to add the kindling and then the fuel. “I’ve got him,” Stinger said. He pointed to the kindling. “Add that slowly,” he told Balance.

As he walked towards the food, he heard Balance explain, “Naaga has a pretty steady routine. This whole thing is wrecking that. And when he gets like this, if you suggest he needs to eat, he’ll dig in his heels further.”

“So what’s Stinger going to do?”

“Not suggest that.”

Stinger got two bowls of stew and motioned for Naaga to join him, slightly away from the others. Naaga looked relieved at being able to do something that wasn’t hauling supplies. Spada was extremely capable of cooking anywhere, but the entire day had thrown off everyone. Packing up quickly, losing the ship, having to find a place to camp late at night… everyone was on edge. Balance got the fire going enough to heat the water. Naaga had slumped close to him on the bench, exhausted, but he’d started to eat dinner, so that was something.

Now, Kotarou had his monkey and was tucked into bed. Tsurugi was off patrolling the perimeter of their camp with Balance, but Spada was also going to bed and had promised to read to Kotarou.

Stinger got back to their tent, entering and kicking off Naaga’s sandals. He had already changed into sleep clothes—wearing loose black pants and a gray t-shirt he was pretty sure was Naaga’s and not his. Naaga was sitting cross-legged on the air mattress, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt, sweater on and sleeves pulled down over his hands. His feet were tucked under the blanket. He was studying his datapad with a frown, thumb pressed to his lips, worrying the skin against the nail.

The weird tick with his thumb was new since Akenba. Stinger didn’t tell him to stop, just tried to pull his hand away naturally and hold his hand when he seemed like he was about to break skin. Stinger just remembered being a kid, and how his brother had mocked and belittled any nervous tick or coping mechanism he started to develop. (Don’t put your hands near your face. Stop tugging on your hair. Stop shaking your leg. Warriors can sit still.) He didn’t want Naaga to be self-conscious about it. Knowing Naaga, he’d likely stop on his own when he got enough distance from the whole thing with Akenba and actually got settled someplace more permanent than this camp. 

“What are you looking at?” Stinger asked as he zipped up the tent and sat down on the air mattress across from Naaga.

Naaga handed him the datapad, before saying softly, “Official judgment from the Ophiuchus System.”

Stinger frowned. “I thought they were letting you do what you wanted.”

“Echidna decided not to pass judgment when she left. But she reported back and I knew they would send me their official decision.”

And now Naaga chewing on his thumb made sense, but he didn’t seem fearful. A little anxious, sure, but not about some impending doom. The decision clearly wasn’t that bad, but Stinger couldn’t stop himself from commenting, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I got… sick.”

Stinger gave him a long look before going back to the datapad. Getting sick and being preoccupied with the time lost with Akenba (and then feeling guilty and scared) was only part of his failure to mention that his home system would be coming down with an official judgment on him. There was more to all of this than Naaga was saying. He read through the statement quickly. 

At the end, he looked up sharply at Naaga. “What does this mean? ‘We’ll expunge all your prior offenses’?”

The look Naaga gave him (a small frown) said he didn’t understand what was unclear about the statement.

He tried again. “What other offenses?”

“Oh.” Naaga looked away, pink flush rising in his cheeks. He was back to worrying his thumb. “Um…” Naaga looked damned flustered. Confused, frustrated, even lost, sure. But flustered? Naaga didn’t usually fall into that category. His embarrassment in social situations usually came later, when he actually realized he’d committed some social gaffe. (If he realized he’d made a mistake. He didn’t always know and Stinger figured that was better. Less things for him to get anxious about.)

For a moment, Stinger thought he might not say anything, but then things started coming out of him in a rushed tumble.

“Well, all the times Balance and I stole things. I mean, at least the things that were attributed to us by the authorities. And I think they gave me a censure when I failed to come home after they contacted me three times. And I got in trouble for helping Balance escape the colony. And then I got in trouble for leaving in the first place. Then I got something else because I joined Rebellion. Jark Matter destroyed our home planet, but we’re still not allowed to join intergalactic organizations. And then because they thought Akenba unlocked my emotions.”

Naaga didn’t even take a breath through the entire spiel. At the end, he took a kind of gasping breath and the flush grew redder, creeping down his neck and to his ears. 

Stinger blinked.

“You mean to tell me all this time I’ve been sleeping with an outlaw?”

“You knew Balance and I were thieves,” Naaga deflected.

“Yeah, and I knew Rebellion didn’t care about any of it because you stole from Jark Matter. But Naaga,” he reached out, resting a hand on his knee and squeezing briefly. “Why didn’t you say anything about the rest?”

“They never actually came after me. They just kept sending me letters.” Naaga was still determinedly staring at a spot on the air mattress next to Stinger. “I was working for Rebellion and I’m a Kyuuranger, so I started to think Rebellion was stopping them from coming for me.” He shrugged, but then said in a very small voice, “And I was embarrassed.”

Stinger raised his hand, gently running a thumb across his cheekbone, cupping his face. “Why?”

Naaga leaned into his touch, still looking away. “No one else has a list of felonies from their home system. Not even Balance, and his home system is really annoyed with all the stealing.”

Letting out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, Stinger put the datapad down on the air mattress and moved so he was sitting next to Naaga. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, tucking Naaga against his side. Naaga snuggled against him, face pressed to his shoulder. 

“First,” Stinger said softly, keeping his voice calm and even, “it’s not like you committed a bunch of serious crimes—you didn’t go out and murder people. And it’s not your fault that your home planet considers things like leaving to be felonies.” He paused, rubbing Naaga’s shoulder. “Second, Rebellion would have stopped them if they decided to come for you. But they didn’t decide to come for you, and I think that says something.”

They were quiet for a moment, Naaga just pressing closer to him. Perhaps he should have put the pieces together from the things Naaga had shared about the Ophiuchus System. Of course they would frown upon anyone leaving, and definitely would not be happy about letting someone escape (who stole from them) and then going on to help said person steal things. And while Rebellion just forgave all the stealing because Naaga and Balance were Kyuurangers and had only stolen from Jark Matter, the Ophiuchus System had obviously still decided that Naaga needed to suffer some consequence from that. But everything had come to a head with Akenba. That was when they sent someone after Naaga.

Even in the very beginning, Echidna was nothing like Naaga. She was cold, detached, resolute that her mission, and destroying Naaga, was the right thing to do. She didn’t seem interested in motivations or shades of gray. But Naaga… he had always been curious. Hell, that was probably why he had walked into the galley that first night Stinger had been back on the ship. He truly wanted to gain emotions, to learn more about them, about other people. If he had not left with Balance, he would have left another way. Naaga was so different from the others in his system, he would have felt out of place and eventually just walked away.

And that was it, wasn’t it? Naaga was strong and brave, but could recognize neither in himself. He genuinely cared about others, about returning peace to the galaxy. Echidna and the others in his home system wanted to protect their people’s peace. Naaga cared about everyone else. 

Look how far he had come, how he shone.

“So what are you going to do?” Stinger asked softly.

Naaga pulled away a little, looking up at him.

“About the letter,” he added.

Reaching out for his datapad, Naaga sat up a little. “They said I am under Rebellion’s authority, and as long as I submit an application to become a citizen of another system in sixty days, they’ll expunge from my record from the Ophiuchus System.”

Stinger knew that part from the letter.

Naaga toggled to one of the three open programs on his datapad. “I was looking at applications for other systems,” he said, voice low, rushed and almost mumbling. “The Scorpius System has the least stringent requirements and the fastest turnaround time.”

And he had the application almost completely filled out.

Naaga was looking at him intently, going at his thumb again. “I know you say we’re a long way off from making things permanent and we don’t know what’s going to happen with Jark Matter and we don’t even know what’s going to happen with us and I know we want to make it permanent but don’t know when and I—”

“Naaga,” Stinger interrupted him, stopping that sentence that seemed never-ending. 

He reached out, taking his hand and threading their fingers together. (Naaga’s thumb was getting red and raw and he’d need a bandage soon.) Naaga’s eyes were bright, shining anxiously.

“There’s not very many of us left in the Scorpius System.” He squeezed his hand. “I think you’ll make a great addition.”

“Really?” Naaga looked relieved.

“Really.” He reached into his pack, retrieving his own datapad. “You need reference letters, right?” Naaga nodded. Stinger sent off a message and got an immediate barrage of replies. “Well, Kotarou can’t write one because he’s a minor, but you’ve got eight other reference letters coming.”

“I only need two,” Naaga said faintly.

“You’re getting eight.” He pushed Naaga’s hair out of his eyes. “Finish the application.”

Naaga finished the application quickly while Stinger wrote a reference letter. The others’ reference letters started coming in as well. Stinger was way more touched and pleased about Naaga wanting to join the Scorpius System than he would ever admit aloud. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he said there weren’t many of them left—Jark Matter had gone in and systematically wiped out most of the people on every planet. The survivors weren’t even in the Scorpius System anymore. Most were under Rebellion protection on a Rebellion-controlled planet. And Naaga would make a good addition.

But really, this was edging towards the permanence they both kept saying they wanted. Seemed like no time had passed at all since they first got together, but then seemed like all the time in the world had gone by. Some days he thought they should just get married. The others didn’t have to know. They could do whatever they wanted, whatever felt right.

The reference letters from the others varied from to-the-point and brief (Garou) to over-the-top with a lot of pomposity (Tsurugi and, weirdly, Balance) to something that read like a Circuit short story (Raptor.) Naaga just attached all of them and submitted the application.

“You’ll know soon,” Stinger said as he put away his datapad.

“The application said up to three weeks.”

“I wasn’t exaggerating when I said there weren’t very many of us. If Mac’s awake, she’s probably reviewing the application right now.”

“Mac?”

Stinger smiled. “MacIntosh. She was the Scorpius System governor before Jark Matter invaded. I guess she’s still the governor.”

Naaga nodded, moving to put away his datapad.

“What was the other program you had open?”

“Oh.” Naaga seemed flustered, again. “Just the sketchpad.”

“The sketchpad? You draw?”

“Um…” What was with Naaga being flustered and Stinger learning all kinds of new things about him? “Everyone in the Ophiuchus System is designed with an artistic skill. The creativity helps development. Mine was drawing. And painting, I guess. But you’re supposed to give it up when you start learning a trade. I hadn’t practiced in years, but it’s… relaxing.”

And after all the crap with Akenba, Naaga needed ways to lower his stress level.

“Can I see the drawings?”

And, honestly, Stinger would not have been surprised if he said no. He understood that. He had yet to let Naaga watch him repair their clothes, or work on any of his projects. Some things just felt too raw, too personal. Growing up, everyone had sat around campfires or in the mess tent, working on their own projects, talking. No one else here knew how to do those things, but, perhaps, he could always teach Kotarou and Naaga. They’d both pick things up quickly. Maybe they needed to share things, and then home wasn’t gone. Just different.

“I’m not very good,” Naaga said softly.

Stinger shrugged. “Someone told me I was bad at making sweaters.”

Naaga looked down at his sweater in alarm. “This isn’t bad. This is really good.”

“It’s all a matter of perspective.”

But still, he opened the program and handed the datapad to Stinger, flushing again.

Stinger looked at the drawings and smiled.

The drawings were cute little cartoon people, mostly them. A lot of them were Stinger with Naaga, but he also drew Balance pretty frequently and Kotarou. And he’d actually made little cartoons of all of them, doing normal, mundane things. He also had some things in the cartoon vein that seemed like generic pictures, designs, like ice cream cones. And, finally, some eerily realistic landscapes. Gods, Naaga wasn’t bad at this. He was fucking amazing.

“Naaga, these are really good.”

Naaga was just worrying his thumb, looking between Stinger and the datapad.

He finally said, “But isn’t it a silly thing to do?”

“It’s not silly if you enjoy it.”

“The others will think it’s silly.”

Stinger couldn’t stop the half-snort half-laugh that came out of him. “You do remember their reaction to the plushies I made of them, right? They’ll just be excited by cute things of them.”

“Oh. Right.”

He handed Naaga the datapad and Naaga shut the thing off, putting it with his pack. He still looked a little down, vulnerable. 

They were currently sitting across from each other on the air mattress, so Stinger just reached out, gently tracing his cheekbone again. “The letter?” he asked softly.

Naaga looked away. “I know I chose to leave.” He let out a long breath. “And then I ignored all their requests for me to go back, but still… after everything… they don’t want me there.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Stinger replied. “That was where you grew up. Your home. It’s going to hurt.”

“Ophiuchus… it’s my Kyuutama.”

“I know.” Stinger reached out, pulling Naaga across the small space between them and into his lap. Naaga went easily and willingly. He had one knee on either side of Stinger’s hips. Stinger tugged until his weight was fully against him. He had an arm around Naaga’s waist, holding him close, the other hand running up and down his side soothingly. Naaga wrapped both arms around his shoulders, resting his head on his shoulder. 

“Out of everyone from Ophiuchus System, the Kyuutama chose you,” Stinger whispered. “I think it chose you because you’re different. You’re the one that cares about the whole universe and not just your system.”

Naaga was quiet, but he pressed closer.

The original nine Kyuutamas chose people from those systems. Even Raptor was originally built in the Aquila System, so her Kyuutama recognized her. Stinger had never really thought about which constellation systems became the original nine Kyuutamas. The choice was fairly random. Some were zodiac signs, others were well-known constellations, and others were minor, relatively obscure. But those nine were the Change Kyuutamas and each chose an owner. Of course the Ophiuchus Kyuutama would have been looking for someone different, not just someone strong, but someone who cared and wanted to meet others and wanted people to live in peace. That was Naaga.

“I can’t make it better,” Stinger whispered after a while. “But I am honored that you chose the Scorpius System.”

Naaga shifted against him, letting out a tiny whine that Stinger felt rather than heard.

“I love you,” Naaga murmured against his skin, hips moving imperceptibly. 

“I love you too,” Stinger replied, voice suddenly hoarse.

Then Naaga pulled back just a little, raising his head. One hand threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck and the other brushed his jaw, before Naaga leaned in, starting a long, chaste kiss. Stinger got a hand up in Naaga’s hair, immediately going to deepen the kiss. Naaga opened at the slightest hint, and Stinger went to plunder his mouth. What started as sweet ended filthy. A shiver ran down Stinger’s back, heat pooling south from just one kiss. He hauled Naaga closer, feeling the answering shiver against him. Naaga made a desperate noise into the kiss before they broke apart. Stinger rested his forehead against Naaga’s, both of them breathing raggedly. 

“I want you,” Naaga whispered against his lips.

Stinger pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I want you too.” He got a hand under the back of Naaga’s shirt, touching soft, warm skin.

“We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“The others will hear.”

“Then we just need to be quiet.”

Naaga leaned in for another open-mouthed kiss. Stinger gently nudged him to open more, swallowing down the moan that followed. See? They could be quiet if they wanted. Hell, they were usually pretty quiet during sex. Neither one of them was prone to talking much. He guessed they didn’t need validation that the other one was having a good time. 

“We don’t have what we need.”

Stinger swore. Naaga’s expression subtly shifted to bemused. “Okay,” he deflected. “We’ll just do something else.”

“How are we going to… clean up?”

“We’ve been camping before. We’ll manage.”

With all that sorted out, Naaga melted against him, clearly okay with where this was going now that his questions had been answered. Stinger reached between them, unbuttoning Naaga’s sweater and Naaga leaned back enough to shrug the garment off. Without the datapad casting a glow in the tent, the space was dark. Outside was quiet, only chirping insects and the wind rustling the trees. Tsurugi was patrolling well beyond their camp, as was Balance. No one was coming close to the tents to see what was going on. He pushed Naaga’s shirt up and over his head, before grabbing the neck of his own shirt, doing the same thing.

Naaga shifted out of his lap and back onto the air mattress. Stinger swallowed hard as he untied the drawstring of his pajama pants, pushing them down. In the small space, Stinger finished the job for him. He made a damned gorgeous sight like this, naked, cheeks flushed in the low light, legs splayed, semi-hard, head back against the pillow. Stinger ran a hand over his thigh, relishing the shiver that followed, the way his breath hitched. He untied his own pajama pants, pushing them down and off. Naaga grabbed them as they came off, pushing them aside in the small tent.

And then Stinger was positioned perfectly between his legs. He moved over his body, lowering his hips and catching him in a wet, uncoordinated kiss. Naaga hummed into the kiss, hands going to his back and pulling him closer. That put Stinger flush against him and, yeah, they were both completely hard and ready to go now.

Hips moving involuntarily, he ducked his head, sucking a kiss into Naaga’s collarbone. Naaga’s hands tightened on his back. He moved back to his lips, starting another punishing kiss. Naaga mewled into the kiss softly. Stinger felt flushed, hot, and he wanted Naaga badly. Naaga wrapped a leg around his waist and that was all the invitation he needed. He reached between their bodies, stroking both of them at once. Naaga’s head hit the pillow as he bit his lip, stifling a groan.

Stinger raised his free hand as he added some pressure, full body weight on Naaga. He brushed Naaga’s lips and then kissed him again. Naaga’s hips moved and he moved his legs a little further apart. The almost inaudible whine that came out of him was familiar and Stinger hadn’t heard that from Naaga in a while—summed up, that particular whine meant that he was enjoying himself, but he wanted more. At this point, the lube was back in the Voyagers, and Stinger had told him before they weren’t doing this without prep and lube. Too much could go wrong and Stinger did not want to risk hurting him. 

Naaga reached for his free hand.

And Stinger would not have been able to guess what he did next.

He took his index finger into his mouth, tongue swirling, getting the digit good and wet. His eyes burned into Stinger’s as he did this, and Stinger lost the rhythm he had going, hand simply squeezing both of them for a moment. Naaga’s mouth was hot, and he pulled off with an obscene pop. 

“Naaga—”

“Please?”

“We talked about this.”

“Just one. Please?”

How in the actual hell was he ever going to deny Naaga anything?

He moved his hand down. Naaga shifted underneath him, angling himself to give him better access. He gently circled his entrance, before slowly plunging in to the first knuckle. Naaga’s hands gripped his shoulders, biting his lips again. All at once, his body relaxed, and Stinger was able to easily slid more of his finger in. Gods, Naaga was hot and tight, like always, and this was probably a bad idea, but the hardly audible noise coming from deep in Naaga’s chest meant Naaga wanted this. Before he knew it, his whole finger was in. He crooked his finger just right and Naaga’s hips damn-near flew off the air mattress, helping them grind against one another.

Stinger got his hand back on both their cocks, and that seemed to be more than enough. Between the finger inside him and the pressure on his cock, Naaga tensed, coming hard between their bodies. Stinger kept stroking him, easing him through the high, until he collapsed against the air mattress, utterly blissed out and spent. He removed his finger, hand going to Naaga’s hip, rubbing a little.

After a moment, Naaga roused himself a little and reached between their bodies, grasping Stinger’s cock and stroking downward, all firm pressure. He was already on edge from watching Naaga come, so it didn’t take much, just a few strokes before he was coming, spilling hot between them.

They just lay together for a while, waiting for their breathing to even out. He nuzzled Naaga’s shoulder, until he turned and they kissed lazily. 

Oddly, he’d found he’d come to love quiet moments like this.

They eventually moved to clean up and go back to bed. They had dissolving body wipes from the camping supplies and that did the trick. Naaga pulled his pajama pants and shirt back on, watching as Stinger pulled on his own pajama pants, putting the shirt with the laundry in his pack.

“That’s actually my shirt.”

“Why was it in my pack?”

A shrug.

“You want it back?”

The only answer was a soft kiss.

They laid down, Stinger nudging Naaga onto his side so he could curl up behind him, spooning him. His arm and tail were slung over Naaga’s waist and Naaga threaded their fingers together. The blanket was completely over them, and things were warm and quiet. Stinger usually slept like hell in unfamiliar places, but he was asleep in moments.

\-------------------

“Hey! Stinger! Naaga! I’m coming in!”

Gray pre-dawn light filtered into the tent.

Stinger frowned at Tsurugi’s voice. Naaga shifted against him.

The tent unzipped and Tsurugi filled the entryway. 

“Are you wearing pants?” Tsurugi asked him.

Stinger rolled his eyes and flicked up the bottom corner of the blanket, showing him the pajama pants. He put the blanket back, rolling to his back just enough to look at Tsurugi.

“You’re not asking Naaga if he has pants on?”

Tsurugi looked amused. “Naaga has a sense of decency. You, on the other hand. I don’t suspect you give a crap about social niceties, so I wouldn’t put being naked past you.”

“What do you want?”

“We’re breaking camp. Balance caught a drone a few kilometers off. Found a warehouse to lay low a few towns over. Spada has fruit right now. Said he’ll make hot breakfast at the warehouse.” Tsurugi paused. “So get up and pack your crap.”

And he was gone.

“He hasn’t slept,” Naaga muttered.

They sat up. Naaga’s datapad was blinking with new messages. Frowning, he pulled the device out of his pack. Before he could get too immersed in all the messages (and general upheaval in his life right now), Stinger gently traced his cheekbone, getting him to look at him. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Happy birthday,” he said softly.

Naaga blinked. “It is my birthday, isn’t it?”

Stinger smiled. He reached into his pack and extracted the necklace with the small charm. He fastened the chain around Naaga’s neck. Naaga looked at the charm with interest. A scorpion and a snake entwined. “It’s beautiful,” Naaga said softly. “But you already gave me something.”

“So? Now I’m giving you something else.”

“Thank you.”

Naaga pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. Stinger smiled. “You’re welcome. Now check your messages before the alert drives you nuts.”

“I need to hack it to turn off that light,” Naaga muttered. He opened his messages. He read through one, frowning, and then looked up at Stinger. “My application was approved.”

Stinger’s smile grew. “Congratulations.”

“But I only sent it in hours ago?”

He shrugged. “Mac was probably awake.”

“She also sent me a birthday card.”

“She sends birthday cards to everyone now—there’s so few of us.”

“And she said I qualify for an android programmer certification? And to remind you that you qualify for the android mechanic certification?”

“I’ll explain more later, but we’re a limited resources system. You don’t have to go to formal training for most of the certifications. A class or two and lots of hands-on experience is all you need.”

“And the Scorpius System is paying me a salary in addition to my Rebellion salary for my work as a Kyuuranger?”

“Yeah. We were limited resources, but had no debt. So we still have funding.”

Naaga looked a little overwhelmed, but at least he was idly moving the charm on the necklace and not biting the skin on his thumb. So that was something.

“I’ll help you go through it all in a day or two.”

Naaga nodded, putting the datapad away, and pulling out clean clothes for the day.

Stinger didn’t bother to tell him that, in spite of losing ORION-gou, Balance and Spada were still making a cake. Balance had definitely gotten Naaga a present. So had Kotarou. (Stinger had heavily supervised what Kotarou got him.) The cake was the carrot cake that Spada had made for Stinger’s birthday. Balance was still disappointed about no decorations or ridiculousness, but had come around when Kotarou commented, “I’m not sure Naaga likes that stuff.” Turns out Balance would listen to Kotarou, but not Stinger. Interesting.

Packing up camp went quickly.

They had to worry about how they were getting to the Crux System.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I just watched episode 34... and now the show is back to dumping on Stinger. I can see all of this going wrong. O.o It also bothered me beyond belief in episode 32 that everyone was just teleported to their Voyager, but they all changed clothes by the beginning of episode 33. So they packed something! I had to fill in the blank. Hence, this chapter.
> 
> Ah, dear readers! I am thrilled that you were all so receptive and excited about the last chapter! Reunions are always the best, and Naaga had a lot to work through (and still has a lot to get through.) You all are the best! Your comments always make my day! Thank you for reading, commenting and kudos-ing! I couldn't do this without you all!
> 
> Feel free to give me suggestions for later chapters! (Either here or on tumblr!) Everyone have a fabulous week, and stay tuned!


	23. Threads of Hope

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, letting Balance spelunk around in Naaga’s brain for intel made Naaga horny and then exhausted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, no episode this past week, so how about a chapter of this? First part is set directly after episode 34 and the rest after episode 35. Enjoy!

**23/ Threads of Hope**   
_A single thread of hope is still a very powerful thing._

Naaga was dozing.

Stinger propped himself on one elbow, gently brushing Naaga’s hair away from his eyes. Naaga exhaled and shifted a little, but didn’t wake up. He was laying on his back, sheet pulled haphazardly around his middle. If he moved enough in one direction, the sheet would no longer be covering him and that was a sight Stinger always loved to see. 

Apparently, letting Balance spelunk around in Naaga’s brain for intel made Naaga horny and then exhausted. Stinger had a suspicion that hungry would be coming once Naaga woke up. Before putting Naaga under, Stinger had been present for the conversation about looking for intel. Naaga made Balance promise that he was only looking for things about Don Armage or Jark Matter, and would not pry into anything private. Balance had asked what kind of private stuff, then looked at Stinger and groaned, “Oh, ugh, that kind of private stuff organics do. No thank you.”

The Battle Orion Ship had its advantages and their living quarters was one of them.

Shou Lonpou had kept the bridge the same, but had definitely decided to add as many amenities as he could to their living spaces. (Likely because he’d also benefit from that.) Stinger couldn’t have imagined Champ necessarily being patient with that, because Champ would have found those things frivolous. However, no one was complaining at this juncture. The rooms were larger, and each one had a spacious private bathroom—separate shower stall and bathtub. The tubs were large enough for two people. (Stinger could confirm—that was one of the first things he and Naaga tested out.) The Commander even assigned the rooms before going into cold sleep. Which meant that Stinger and Naaga were sharing a room, with a double bed and actual furniture for both of them. 

Funnily enough, Naaga had been hesitant about the bed the first night. The design of the sheets and blankets meant that they could be converted to be used on several sizes of beds, so that was not an issue. “Isn’t it too big?” Naaga had said, small frown on his face.

“What do you mean?” Stinger had asked, thinking that Naaga was talking about what they were used to. Which was both of them sharing a single bed. They’d gotten really good at getting both of them comfortably into the small bed, so having a single air mattress or small space did not bother them. Stinger figured the extra space would be nice, might give them some extra room for things.

“I don’t want to lose you in bed.”

And then Stinger understood Naaga’s reluctance. The single bed forced them to hold each other, be touching one another, when they went to sleep. Naaga had gotten so used to holding on to Stinger out of necessity, he didn’t want to contemplate sleeping in the same bed without touching one another. At that point, Stinger had just smiled and drawn Naaga into his arms. “I don’t think I can sleep without holding you,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Naaga’s lips. Naaga responded, still looking uncertain as they broke apart. “Hey,” Stinger added. “We’ll have room to move over after sex.”

That comment made Naaga smile a little. “You would think of that.”

The living quarters also had drawers and ways to secure everything as a matter of safety. If they needed to use the ship in a battle, no one wanted their things flying around. One of the new routines Raptor had initiated was everyone had to make sure their things were secure in their living quarters before going to breakfast. 

Now, Stinger ran a hand across Naaga’s stomach, smiling softly at the sleepy exhale and small movement from Naaga. He got his arm completely over Naaga’s waist. Naaga shifted closer to him, snuggling close in his sleep.

He wanted the quiet. Ever since Champ had finally gotten back, his thoughts had been too noisy, nothing would settle, vague sense of guilt gnawing at his senses. The berserk mode that Champ slipped into was easily overcome by either restraining him or hitting him. That didn’t make the mode any less dangerous, especially if Champ was in an enclosed area or around someone that might not go on the defensive immediately (like Kotarou or Hame.) But still, at the end of the day, Stinger didn’t want the others to worry. And he was fairly confident the mode was a hardware problem, something wasn’t talking to something else properly and causing the glitch. Likely something wasn’t connecting as well as it should after Champ got put back together, and then years upon years without proper maintenance would have caused the problem to exacerbate into what it was now. 

Naaga would pick up that something was wrong once he woke up. Stinger had never been able to hide anything from Naaga, not really. In the past, Naaga’s issue had never really been with Stinger keeping secrets from him. They both had things that were too raw, too vulnerable. Naaga had revealed a lot of that recently, with the application to join a new constellation system and the charges his home system had actually levied against him. Even learning about Naaga’s drawings… but there were still things in the shadows, things Naaga was unsure of, and Stinger didn’t want to push him, because he knew he had his own things.

No, Naaga would want reassurance that Stinger would tell him before things reached a head. Their relationship would not come back from a repeat of Scorpio and Antares. Naaga had known he’d gotten low, but Stinger had kept exactly how low from him. If he had actually told Naaga his plan of using Antares to stop his brother at the expense of his own life, Naaga would have dropped everything and come to Rebellion HQ immediately. Probably would have also called the security team to throw him in a holding cell until he got there. Perhaps this had been too new at the time for him to feel comfortable fully relying on Naaga, but now…

“Stinger?”

Speaking of Naaga. His voice was low and hoarse from sleep. He rubbed one eye, clearly taking in the fact that he was in Stinger’s arms. Stinger brushed his hair out of his eyes, giving him space to formulate a question.

“What time is it?” he finally asked.

“Late.”

“We missed dinner.”

“I’ll make you something.”

“Grilled cheese with turkey?”

Naaga sounded so ridiculously hopeful about that meal that Stinger smiled before closing the space between them and pressing a long kiss to his lips. 

When they broke apart, Naaga studied him for a long moment, fingers in his hair, smoothing down the errant strands. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

Stinger just shook his head, silent.

“It’s Champ, isn’t it?”

He looked up, meeting Naaga’s gaze. He didn’t know why he was surprised by this anymore.

“Is everything okay?”

“Hopefully, it will be.”

Naaga nodded, kissing him again. “Tell me if I can help. Or before it gets bad.”

“I will,” Stinger replied.

Naaga pulled back a little, stretching some. He made a pleased noise in the back of his throat. “We should shower before we go eat.”

Stinger smiled a little, watching Naaga get out of bed. Naaga looked back at him and then reached out to take his hand, tugging him out of bed too. “You want company?” Stinger teased.

“These showers are way better for two people.”

That absolutely had not been what the Commander was thinking when he finished renovating the ship, but Stinger was not complaining. Neither was Naaga. Stinger allowed himself to be led into the bathroom, getting in Naaga’s space and pressing kisses to his skin.

When his hand wandered a little lower, Naaga leaned against him, simply whispering, “Wait until later. We need to eat.”

“Is that a promise?” Naaga nodded slightly and Stinger smiled. “We need to let Balance wander around in your head more often,” he whispered hotly against his neck.

Naaga gave him a withering look that was countered by the flush rising in his cheeks. “This is not even close to our record in one night.”

He snorted a small laugh and then stepped around Naaga to turn on the water.

He hated the situation with Champ, hated the recent upheaval in their lives. He’d never really thought much about home, not after his has been so utterly and brutally destroyed. He’d simply thought of rooms or beds as places to sleep—a thing he hated doing and avoided at all costs. Even his room on ORION-gou. He hadn’t been there in a long time before coming back and running into Naaga that first night. And even then, the room was just a place where his things were. But then came along Naaga, with his daily routines, and insistence on proper medication dosages and hours of sleep, and worry about Stinger eating three meals a day. Naaga, who made the bed every morning without fail, and would never come right out and say he thought Stinger folded the laundry wrong (but he thought Stinger folded the laundry wrong.) Somehow, a fucking room on a ship became home.

As they got in the shower, he couldn’t help but feel like everything would come to a head. He didn’t know when, but there was too much tension, too many loose threads and too much at stake in the Crux System.

\-----------------

How in the actual fuck had they ended up yelling at each other?

Stinger was not naïve. There was no way any relationship could work without disagreements and compromise, flat-out conflict. Maybe there had been too much upheaval continually that they had to concentrate on each problem rather than have time to snipe at each other? Maybe the times they should have been angry they were just so relieved that they forgot to be angry? Naaga should have been livid about everything Stinger did around his brother. And Stinger would have been justified in being hurt and upset about everything Naaga went through with Akenba. 

But this? Did they really start fighting about something stupid?

Stinger had met up with Naaga in the hallway outside of the living quarters.

_“Hey.”_

_“Where have you been all afternoon?”_

_“What?”_

_“You weren’t on a shift.” A shrug. “Just curious.”_

_“Oh. I was in the maintenance bay with Champ.”_

He didn’t know why the question about where he had been made him bristle. The phrasing? Naaga had absolutely not been interrogating him—he really was just curious. Stinger hadn’t really been in any of his usual haunts, so he supposed that the curiosity was natural.

_“Is Champ okay?”_

That question should not have made him bristle either, but it did.

Naaga had seemed to hesitate almost immediately. He’d been burned with that too recently—insisting on something. Gods, Stinger had been on the bridge when Naaga practically started an argument with Hame about Hoshi Minato. Stinger knew exactly where Naaga was coming from—he hated what Akenba had done to him and, talk about anything that smacked of that same manipulation, he wanted to stop that immediately. Stinger had actually been pretty proud of him—being assertive, refusing to back down. Naaga needed that in his life.

And yes, everything with Hoshi Minato had worked out. The hardest thing for Naaga had been trying to understand what being a fan of something was like. Stinger had a difficult time explaining that concept to him, because he’d asked almost immediately. Stinger liked lots of music, but wasn’t necessarily passionate about any of the artists enough to call himself a fan. Hoshi Minato was such a big name that he just had star power around him. And, honestly, Stinger didn’t like things that way. Not like Hame clearly liked Hoshi Minato. Eventually, Naaga decided that, even if he didn’t fully understand the feelings or the appeal, he could respect that Hame was a fan.

_“Champ is fine.”_

_“Were you running diagnostics?”_

Not a dig, not really. Just another question, another attempt to make conversation. Naaga did that, asked follow-up questions because he was not really sure how small talk was supposed to go.

_“Yes.”_

_“Is there anything I can help with?”_

_“No.”_

Naaga had shrunk back a little at his snapped reply. But then he straightened almost as quickly and replied, _“Is it bad? You promised—”_

_“It’s not bad! Why are you so worried about it?”_

_“I’m not worried about Champ. I’m worried about you!”_

_“You don’t know anything about it!”_

_“Then tell me!”_

_“You won’t understand.”_ He ignored the hurt on Naaga’s face.

_“I know Champ is your friend—”_

_“Exactly. He’s my friend. Let me handle this.”_

_“Stinger, don’t try to carry things yourself. You know how that went with your brother.”_

_“Do not bring Scorpio into this.”_

_“I just… you’re not alone.”_

_“I will take care of my own problems.”_

_“Don’t say that. Please? I can’t imagine how some of this feels—”_

_“You’re right. You can’t.”_

The words were a low blow, extremely low. He hated himself the moment the words left his mouth. He wanted to take them back. He didn’t mean any of that, but he had just felt so attacked and vulnerable and like Naaga was picking at wounds that still felt fresh. He felt like a colossal asshole. Maybe Balance had been right about him all along.

Naaga’s eyes shone with tears and his lower lip trembled a little. Not the humiliated or ashamed tears from everything with Akenba. These were upset, frustrated tears. Confused. Naaga didn’t have a damn clue why Stinger decided to react so badly. 

But he didn’t have a moment to backpedal or apologize or even attempt to begin making his stupid comeback better.

Instead, the wind was knocked out of him as he was picked up around the middle and fucking carried down the hall. He tried to struggle for a moment, but the arm around him had an iron grip. Champ. He could see Naaga’s shoes, meaning Champ must have thrown Naaga over his shoulder. Fucking hell. And they were passing the open galley door. Which meant the others would waste no time speculating. Fuck. Dammit, Champ.

Champ dumped him onto a couch in one of the rec rooms. Stinger tried to jump up immediately, assert some kind of control over this, but Champ held out an arm. So he painfully jarred his shoulder and was still sitting on the couch. 

He noticed Champ put Naaga down on the couch much more gently. 

Guess that explained who Champ liked better.

Champ mooed. “Being kind of noisy, aren’t you, partner?”

“Stay out of this, Champ,” he muttered.

“Oh, I would, but you were in a common area. And you were gathering an audience.” He gestured around the rec room. “Figured this was a little more private.” He shrugged. “At any rate, you need to not run your mouth, partner. Think before you speak or whatever that phrase is.”

That was when he noticed Naaga had curled away from him on the couch and was doing his best to disguise the fact that he was crying. Fuck. He reached out for Naaga, but Naaga flinched away from his touch.

“Naaga—” Stinger started, but Naaga just wiped away at the tears, not looking at him.

“Naaga,” Champ said, patting his head. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I’ll tell that one when he needs to consult you.”

Naaga nodded slightly at Champ, still ignoring Stinger.

“Look, there’s been too much crap lately,” Champ continued. “We’re on this planet to resupply for a few days before continuing to the Crux System. There’s a nice getaway place. I think you two could benefit from a weekend there.”

“Champ—”

“It’s on me.”

“Champ—”

“Don’t worry about it. Money is not a problem. I get a salary and what am I going to use it for?”

Stinger was not worried about Champ sending them on a trip. A sick feeling had settled into his stomach, making his back ache from anxiety. He had managed to fuck up royally in less than two minutes and wanted to start talking, but a lump was in his throat.

“You guys go pack. I’ll take you to the transport in about forty minutes.”

“You booked it now?!” Stinger blurted, finding his voice.

“Yeah. Go pack. Two nights.” 

Not sure what else to do, Stinger stood up. Naaga unfolded himself from the couch slowly and trailed behind him. Stinger clearly heard Champ tell Naaga in an undertone, “Kick his ass. He needs to learn how not to run his mouth.”

They were quiet as they walked down to their room. Naaga was sniffling a little, still trying to hide the fact that he was crying. His heart fell into his stomach, and he felt like an even bigger asshole than he already did. Gods, what in the hell was wrong with him? He’d never flown off the handle at Naaga, or snapped some cutting remark to him. And all this stuff with Champ was so minor in comparison to the other things they’d been through.

When they got to their room and the door slid shut behind them, Stinger tried to speak. “Naaga,” he started softly. “I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t,” Naaga replied in a whisper. He half-collapsed, half-sat on the edge of their bed. “Not yet. In a little while.”

For lack of something better to do and not wanting to keep arguing with, well, anyone, Stinger got out their packs and started throwing clothes in his. Naaga did not seem motivated to pack, which Stinger understood. He had picked up Stinger’s bird stuffed animal and was holding the thing to his chest. He wasn’t exactly crying, still trying to stop himself from doing so.

“I can tell Champ no.”

“It’s okay.”

“Naaga.”

“Really. I just…” He trailed off. Naaga suddenly looked exhausted. 

“Hey, why don’t you lay down for a little bit? I’ll pack. Call you when we need to leave?”

Naaga nodded. He was still wearing his jacket, shoes and Seiza Blaster, but he curled up on top of the covers anyways, holding the bird to his chest. He looked miserable and sad, but closed his eyes. Stinger just packed for both of them for the weekend. Not that packing was difficult—they weren’t going camping, so he didn’t need to come up with additional gear. His back still ached, but he smiled a little when he opened Naaga’s drawer and found his own t-shirt. He put the shirt in Naaga’s pack. 

Packing took too little time.

He found small comfort in the fact that Naaga’s let him rest a hand on the top of his head before he left the room with both their packs. Nowhere better to go and nothing better to do found him in the rec room where Champ still was.

“Timing sucks a little on this, huh partner?” Champ said gruffly. “What were you even getting upset about?”

“Nothing,” he muttered as he sank onto a couch. “It was stupid.”

“You got to learn to control your mouth.”

Stinger snorted mirthlessly. “I’ve never had that problem in front of Naaga before.”

“First time for everything.” Champ shrugged. “Maybe you’re getting comfortable.”

“That doesn’t sound like a good thing.”

Another shrug. “Naaga can handle you at your worst. This is just you being crabby.”

“Crabby?”

“Yeah. Just caught him off guard. Next time, he’ll tell you to shut up.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. You better grovel a whole lot.”

Stinger would have been worried about Champ sharing this with the others, but he already knew that the others, some of them at any rate, at overheard. And were talking about it. And he was itching to talk to Naaga so much that he found he didn’t really care what the others were gossiping about.

“Where the hell are you even sending us?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Champ.”

“It’s fine. I ran it past Spada. He thinks you’ll like it.”

Stinger didn’t know if that was an endorsement, but at least Spada would have stopped Champ from picking anything too weird. Plus Spada knew both of them decently well and would probably be able to veto anything they flat-out would not like. 

A few minutes later, Naaga appeared followed by Balance and Hame.

That made another pang of anxiety shoot through him.

Champ said, “Great. I’ll drop you guys off.” Naaga picked up his pack and followed Champ out of the rec room. Stinger went to follow, but Balance grabbed his arm.

“Spada says you have to take public transport to get to this place.”

“So?”

Balance gave him a bored look. “So, Naaga hates public transport.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No, I mean, wouldn’t you two have had to take that?”

“Yeah. We did. And he hated it every time.” Balance shook his head. “Look, he’s upset with you, but I got told very clearly to stay out of your business, which means he knows what he’s going to do with you.” A pause. “So on the public transport, sit between him and other people. Near a window is good, but a door is better. And hold his hand or something. Give him something to focus on that isn’t listening for a mechanical problem in the transport.”

“Did they not—”

“No,” Balance cut off his question, which had been about to be about whether or not the Ophiuchus System had public transport. “They walk or bike everywhere.”

“Really?”

“Really. Now get the hell out of here.”

Stinger went down the hall, jogging a little to catch up to Champ and Naaga.

The ride to the planet’s surface was quiet and Champ waved them off at the station. The transport was fairly empty when they got on, so putting Naaga at the end of a bench next to the door was easy. The moment the transport lurched out of the station, Stinger could feel Naaga press closer to him, almost inaudible whimper coming out of him. He threaded their fingers together, squeezing tightly. Naaga seemed to have temporarily decided against not touching Stinger, because he squeezed back, and then pressed his face to Stinger’s shoulder. Stinger could damn near feel his heartbeat, which was pounding. Gods, Balance had not been kidding about Naaga hating these things.

“It’s just a thirty minute trip,” he tried to soothe.

“I know.”

He pressed a kiss to Naaga’s forehead.

“I saw one of these come off the tracks,” Naaga mumbled against his shoulder. “Balance and I were on another one headed in the opposite direction. I didn’t see the aftermath, but…” He shuddered against Stinger and tried to press closer.

“That’s awful.” He paused. “Naaga—”

“I know,” Naaga continued against his shoulder. “Balance used to give me the speech all the time about how these things are safe. We just saw a freak accident because Jark Matter was invading and had tampered with the rails.”

“I wasn’t going to say that.”

Naaga pulled back just a little to look at him. His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t,” he hissed, accurately guessing where Stinger had been headed—which was to start apologizing. “We’ll talk when we get there and to our room. Alone.” The emphasis on the last word made Stinger stay quiet. 

He’d fucked up, but there was no point in saying the words—they both knew that. Naaga’s heart was still going way too fast, so Stinger released his hand in favor of just wrapping an arm around his shoulders. That allowed Naaga to slip an arm around his waist and press closer. He relaxed a little, but was still horribly tense. 

The rest of the ride was quiet. Stinger decided to enjoy having Naaga close him. Naaga did not especially withhold affection or things like that when upset—rather he wanted space, both figuratively and literally, until he understood the issue and came up with a solution. Stinger purposely pushed what Balance had said out of his mind. Even if he took the Balance filter off the statement, he was still uncertain about what that meant. 

The place turned out to be a hot springs resort.

Stinger had a vague clue of what that meant, just having seen advertisements in his travels chasing his brother and being undercover. Not like he’d given the things a second thought or even bothered to fully figure out what they were. (Kind of like how he’d not bothered to try fish or seafood until one night at dinner when Spada literally put something down in front of him.) Well, he hoped there was some kind of explanation, so he didn’t look really stupid. (Hopefully, Naaga knew and could cover for him.)

“Balance and I saw a place like this,” Naaga commented as they walked into the lobby. “We couldn’t visit. Jark Matter wanted their emeralds back.”

And, seriously, since Naaga would casually mention things like that pretty frequently, Stinger had no idea why he was still surprised. But he blinked anyways, turning towards Naaga. Gods, Naaga was so orderly, he still had trouble picturing him helping Balance steal shit.

At check in, Naaga asked about putting expenses on one of their accounts, but the lady at the front desk just said, “Oh no, that’s all taken care of. Your friend was very insistent that you both pay for nothing.” She sent them an e-itinerary. “He also booked a private hot spring for you.” She brought up a map of the property and drew in a route to their room and their hot spring. She sent that as well.

“Fucking Champ,” Stinger muttered as they walked towards their room.

“It’s nice of him,” Naaga said quietly. “But we have money.”

“Yeah. He spends almost no money.”

“How?”

“All his maintenance is covered by Rebellion. And he’s not like Raptor or Balance—he doesn’t buy things. So he has the money lying around.” Stinger sighed. “Speaking of buying things, I need to buy Kotarou some new clothes,” he muttered.

Naaga gave him a wry look before opening the door to their room.

The room was large and filled with natural light, gauzy curtains letting in the light but blocking the outside world’s view of them. The bed was a little bit smaller than their bed on ORION-gou, which would make Naaga happy. He didn’t have much time to focus on anything more than that, because the moment he shut the door behind them, Naaga dropped his pack on the bed and turned to face him.

“Say it.”

“Say what?”

“Whatever you were going to back on the ship. Or the transport.”

“Oh that.” He’d damn near forgotten they were fighting. Resolving a problem. Whatever. He dropped his own pack at the foot of the bed. He scrubbed a hand over his face and exhaled, before saying, “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean any of that. And I don’t know why I got so irritated.”

Naaga crossed his arms, giving him a long look. “That’s it?”

“That was the short version.”

“Part of that was bullshit.”

Fuck, he was making Naaga swear. “Which part?” He kept his voice even.

“You do know why you got irritated.”

“Naaga, I really don’t.”

If anything, Naaga just looked more frustrated. “You know what? I think it has to do with Champ. You aren’t telling anyone what, because you don’t want people to worry.” Naaga paused, and then tossed out, “That was definitely your idea and not Champ’s.” He shook his head. “And whatever is going on with Champ is serious enough that you decided to keep it a secret, because something mild would have been out there immediately. So what is it?”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with Champ?”

“Naaga—”

“That’s the reason you got so angry. Tell me.”

He sighed. There really was no keeping secrets from Naaga. Damn good thing that Naaga didn’t go snooping for presents, otherwise nothing would be a surprise. And how in the fuck had Naaga made all those leaps to the correct thing? Maybe telling Naaga would make him feel better. 

“I think he went for a dangerous amount of time with no maintenance,” he started softly. “There issues with his hardware—the software is running correctly, I ran fixes on that first. But because something isn’t connecting properly, his hardware causes a weird berserk mode. He flails and doesn’t remember those episodes. I figured out it can be fixed by hitting him really hard.”

“That’s a terrible fix.”

“I know. That’s why I’m looking for the cause. Haven’t found it yet.”

“That could be dangerous in small spaces or around someone who won’t hit him immediately.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you keeping it a secret?”

“Because,” he snapped, then winced and changed his tone. “Champ was so ashamed about Doctor Anton and didn’t think he was worthy of being a Kyuuranger anymore.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want the others to have a reason to isolate him. I’ll find the cause and fix it. There’s just a lot of possibilities. Champ’s a fighting robot—that’s exponentially more parts.”

He was expecting a lot of reactions to that information. He was not expecting Naaga to just cross the room and hug him—hard. He returned the embrace, relaxing in Naaga’s arms. After a while, Naaga stepped back and poked his side, a little harder than needed. “What did Champ and I tell you about trying to carry everything yourself?”

He just let out a long breath.

Naaga was giving him another long look. “You’re bad at it and it makes you cranky.”

Stinger smiled a little. 

Naaga closed the distance between them, hands on Stinger’s shoulders. “Promise me,” he whispered. “You’ll tell me this kind of stuff. Even if you don’t want me to help or do anything, just promise that you’ll tell me. Please?”

He sighed and then pressed a long kiss to Naaga’s lips. “Okay,” he said softly as they broke apart. “But you have to promise me something. You’ll respect my wishes on whether or not you need to get involved in it.”

Naaga nodded. “Yes,” he replied softly. Another kiss, and then, “Let’s go down to our hot spring.”

Stinger smiled. “What the hell is a hot spring?”

Naaga’s returned smile was amused. He started to explain.

\-----------------

The hot spring was quiet and relaxing. This planet very clearly had seasons—this was autumn, he supposed. The leaves on the trees were turning colors—red and gold—and falling gracefully to the ground. The air was cooler, with a little bit of a bite, but still plenty warm enough. On his home planet, seasons were marked only by the slight shifting of the hot and dry desert temperature. Summer was blisteringly hot, with fall and spring only less so. Winter was only slightly less warm than the others. They had so few plants, and the only animals burrowed and came out at night (which could be a slight problem for predators in their camps.) School taught him the seasons, but he’d honestly thought those did not exist, at least not in the exaggerated form that picture books said. 

The first time he’d seen autumn on a planet away from his home planet, he’d thought something was wrong with the trees and the atmosphere, like Jark Matter had poisoned the place. Then the simple idea of changing seasons occurred to him. 

He picked up a fallen leaf from the edge of the hot spring. The leaf was red, getting brittle, but not quite dead yet. Hard to believe the thing had once been green. He’d always hated how dry his home planet was, how precious a resource water was. Even showering or bathing did not relieve the constant dryness, skin feeling brittle and ready to crack, throat and mouth always uncomfortably dry. Being away from the desert and seeing other places, he knew he did not want to go back to the desert. He wanted to be someplace green, with trees and water and resources. 

Naaga was behind him, hands on his shoulder. Gods, he’d not even thought about how his shoulder ached after slamming himself into Champ’s arm. Naaga’s fingers worked into the muscle. He made an appreciative noise.

“That looked like it hurt,” Naaga murmured.

“When Champ plants himself, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Hmm.” Naaga sounded like he was filing away the information for later.

“Hey,” Stinger replied, turning around so he was facing Naaga and changing the subject. “Want to try something different tonight?”

“Like what?” Naaga did not seem hesitant, just curious.

Stinger got an arm around his waist, pulling him close. “I want you to top,” he said softly, feeling himself flush a little at the statement. 

Naaga leaned forward, closing the small distance between them and pressing a long kiss to his lips. When he pulled back, he simply said, “No.”

“No?” Stinger echoed. “That’s it? No other questions?”

Naaga ran a hand down his side soothingly. “I will think about it,” he replied. “But not right now. Because right now, this is some weird penance thing from you.”

He let out a long breath. “Maybe you’re right.” He really had thought about this before. And he had not been lying when he told Naaga he wanted to reverse things once in a while. Granted, at the time, Naaga had caught his white lie about getting drunk. And because he was so fucking insecure, he couldn’t stop himself from adding, “Are you still mad?”

“No. Not mad.” Naaga paused. “I forgive you and I accept your apology, but I think I am still a little irritated with you.”

“That’s fair.” He adjusted his grip on Naaga, pulling him closer for a moment. Naaga went easily and willingly, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. 

Naaga rested his head on his shoulder. “Hame said it’s only people really close to you who can hurt you really badly,” he murmured. “Because if you’re not close, then you don’t have the same stake in whatever they said.”

Stinger blinked. “She’s right.”

“Is that why your brother’s betrayal hurt you so much?”

He really did know what to say to that, other than, “Yes.”

“Emotions are complex.”

Naaga had not said that in so long that Stinger felt himself smile. Good to know that some things were staying the same. “They are,” he agreed.

Naaga pulled back, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “This place has a sushi bar. We should go there for dinner.”

Okay. He was shifting gears fast. Stinger just went with things. Naaga was still upset, and definitely unsettled in general. Stinger knew he had dreams—bad ones—about Akenba. He tried to hide how awful the dreams were, but he was sweaty and shaky afterwards, and wouldn’t admit that he didn’t want to go back to sleep, but sleeping again scared him. So he ended up clinging to Stinger, arms practically bruising his ribcage. 

“Hmm,” he replied.

Naaga’s eyes narrowed a little. “You’ve never eaten sushi?”

“It’s fish.”

“How long have you been traveling?”

“I didn’t know what it was and didn’t want to bug someone.”

“Were you too embarrassed to ask?”

“A little, but mostly I didn’t care.”

Naaga’s expression was exasperated and he shook his head a little. 

Stinger kissed him briefly. “That’s fine, but you’ll need to tell me the difference between things. Because you know I don’t pay attention to that.”

The head shake was still going on.

“Yeah, I’m pretty hopeless like that,” Stinger muttered.

Naaga shrugged. “Not really. I just know the things you do remember are important to you.” He shifted a little closer. “So we can make out here, and then get dinner, and go to bed early.” He paused. “And then in the morning…” he trailed off, flushing a little.

“You want me to fuck you?” Stinger supplied.

A nod, and then a shy, quiet, “Hard.”

He pulled Naaga close and into his lap, threading his fingers through his hair and angling him for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. He didn’t really deserve Naaga, who could completely and utterly see through all his bullshit. He really didn’t deserve Naaga to stick by him after everything that had happened with his brother. But now, he had no idea how he’d fallen in love like this and now Naaga had become a member of his constellation system. He still had no clue what the future held with Jark Matter or Rebellion, but they would build a future together. Somehow, he knew they’d figure that out.

And for now, he would just enjoy kissing Naaga.

\----------------

The plans for the next morning got thrown off when Stinger woke up at three in the morning to Naaga twitching in his sleep, distressed noises coming out of him. Stinger sat up, leaning over to shake Naaga awake. Gods, his shirt was soaked through with sweat. 

“Naaga,” he said softly. “Naaga. Come on, wake up.”

Another shake and Naaga was opening his eyes. He looked around wildly for a moment, hands resting on Stinger’s forearms. “Stinger,” he said, voice low and hoarse.

And then Naaga started sobbing. He sounded fucking terrified. 

“Naaga,” he breathed, immediately pulling Naaga into a sitting position and wrapping his arms around him. He got him between his legs, curled against his chest. He rocked him back and forth as ugly sobs came out of him. After a minute, Naaga slipped his arms around his middle, hanging on as hard as he could. “Naaga,” he said softly as the sobs began to die out. “Take a deep breath. Come on.”

His breathing was slowing down, evening out, and Naaga drew in a shaky breath.

“Was it Akenba?” he asked.

Naaga nodded against his chest.

“She can’t hurt you anymore.” As much as he wanted to add that she was gone, they’d defeated her, he knew with the weirdness happening with Don Armage, that was not a promise that could necessarily be kept. 

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It was bad.”

“I could tell.”

Naaga rubbed one eye. Then he winced as he said, “She had grabbed… and then…” The crushing gesture he made with his hand was enough to make Stinger frown in sympathy. He sniffed. “I think this was the same as before. I just remember more of it.”

“Naaga,” he breathed again.

“How long is this going to keep happening to me?” he asked, sounding miserable and distressed.

“It happened recently. Give yourself time. I still have dreams about my brother.”

Naaga slumped against him. Stinger just held him for a few minutes.

There were concrete things they needed to do. Naaga’s clothes were soaked with sweat, so he needed to get out of these clothes and shower. Fresh sheets on the bed would be best, and there was a small electric kettle in the room, so he could make Naaga some tea. Reaching over for the datapad on the nightstand, he sent the front desk a message and they replied immediately. Five minutes and someone would come strip the bed.

He nudged Naaga, and then stood up, pulling Naaga out of bed. Naaga was shaking hard. Stinger was afraid he might fall over, but they got to the bathroom with no problems. He shut and locked the bathroom door behind them. With Naaga shaking this much, he had him sit on the closed toilet and then turned on the shower water. He got to a good temperature—the hotter side of warm. And then turned back to Naaga.

“I didn’t bring any other pajamas,” Naaga whispered.

“It’s okay. You have other clothes.”

Stinger grasped the hem of his shirt and pulled the garment up and over his head. Goosebumps appeared on his arms, and he was shaking still. With what he hoped was a soothing tone of voice, he made nonsense noises as he got Naaga completely undressed and then stripped off his own pajama pants. Hell, Naaga could wear his pajama pants if he wanted, and he’d either wear his shorts or just sleep naked. Not like they didn’t do that often enough. 

They got into the shower and he pushed Naaga under the warm spray. His shaking was a little better, but Stinger still soaped up a washcloth and started washing his back. Naaga leaned back against the touch. “I don’t understand how it could hurt so much in the dream,” he murmured.

“Dreams are odd that way.’

Naaga turned around to face him, and Stinger just closed the small space between them, kissing him soundly. The dreams seemed far away for Naaga, which was good. They also didn’t want to spend all night in the water, so Stinger decided to make this go faster. He got Naaga soaped and washed, and Naaga usually gave him a withering look when he decided to do this, but he just looked exhausted, letting Stinger take over the situation. 

Out of the shower, he handed Naaga his pajama pants to put on, and then gathered Naaga’s clothes, walking out into the room to put them with their laundry. He put on his shorts, and then grabbed the t-shirt from Naaga’s pack. He handed the garment to him. The sheets were changed on the bed—damn, the people here were good. Naaga sat on the edge of the bed, watching him as he made the tea.

Soon enough, they were settled on the bed. Stinger leaned against the headboard, and Naaga was between his legs, back pressed to his chest. He held Naaga close as he sipped his tea. “I don’t want to go back to sleep,” he whispered, eyes bright.

“You don’t have to. We can stay up.” Sometimes sleeping during the day felt safer, no shadows for the dark things to hide in.

“Will you sing to me?”

He smiled a little. “Always.”

He didn’t know when he stopped singing and closed his eyes, but he opened his eyes when Naaga shifted in his arms. “What time is it?” Naaga asked.

Stinger blinked and looked at the clock. Then looked again. They had gotten settled back on the bed close to four, and the sun was up now, fully shining. “Ten,” he replied.

“We slept for six more hours?” Naaga sounded surprised.

He held Naaga for a moment more before they got up. Stinger had a crick in his neck, but figured they could go down to the hot spring for most of the day. They needed breakfast.

He figured they would be okay. Eventually.

He just needed to learn how to shut his damn mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Special thanks to anon for suggesting the hot spring! :D And is anyone entertained that, out of all the dudes running around their ship, it was Lucky and Naaga that were Hame's back-up dancers? Lulz.
> 
> Continuing giant thanks to all my readers! I am so sorry that I have not gotten back to your comments this time around (silly job, taking up time!), but I promise to be getting back to everyone hence forth. Thank you for commenting, reading and kudos-ing! I am so glad you are all still with me!
> 
> As always, feel free to suggest things you want to see! (Here or on tumblr!) Let's see what material next week gives me to work with. Everyone have an awesome week!


	24. Affirmation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your body temperature is still quite warm, in spite of your complaining about how cool it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set after episode 37. Mild spoilers therein.
> 
> Enjoy, dear readers!

**24/ Affirmation**   
_Only in darkness can you see the stars._

“It’s fucking cold on this planet.”

“It’s ten degrees.”

“That’s fucking cold.”

“There’s a slim chance of snow or ice at this temperature.”

“How much colder does it need to get for that?” A pause. “Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

Naaga scooted close to Stinger and wrapped his arms around his middle. Naaga squeezed him for a moment, like he was assessing something, and then released him. “Your body temperature is still quite warm, in spite of your complaining about how cool it is.”

Stinger was not certain how reassuring that was. He gave Naaga a withering look as he moved back to the crate where he had set up the battery pack with the signal boost and a small lantern.

They were on the planet Cayenne for a few more days. Lucky was trying to navigate how to handle being the new king of the Leo System with his responsibilities as a Kyuuranger. To help with some of that, they were all working on different parts of the planet, evaluating infrastructure and making recommendations for the Rebellion aid that was coming. The sector that Stinger and Naaga got definitely needed the solar grid repaired, because the area had rolling blackouts. Most lasted for about thirty minutes, but this one was going on an hour. The sector was not dangerous, per se, but was densely populated, so taking off from the Voyagers here would be a hazard to the residents. 

With the signal boost, Naaga was able to contact Balance back in the capitol city. Their Seiza Blasters piggybacked off solar grids. Without a solar grid and with back-up batteries drained (their current situation), they needed the signal boost to get through to someone.

“Yeah,” Balance confirmed. “That area has problems. I can meet you there in the morning and put a patch on it that should help until Rebellion gets here.”

“Okay,” Naaga replied. “Should we head to the power station?”

“Nah. It’s late. You have gear. Looks like you’re in an abandoned building right now. No other life signs around. I’ll keep an eye out and alert you if something appears.”

“Like what?” Stinger muttered.

Unfortunately, Balance caught the comment, because he said, “Probably a drunk guy.”

“Great.”

“See you tomorrow,” Naaga said, ending the call. He slipped off his Seiza Blaster and attached it to the battery pack. He held out his hand for Stinger’s, and then did the same to his. With the Seiza Blasters charging, Stinger let out a long breath, rubbing a hand along his own arm. He knew, objectively, that ten degrees wasn’t all that cold. But because he had grown up in a place that was forty degrees in the shade, he was not comfortable in this weather. Dammit, this was right about when Champ and his weird tendency to always assume organics were cold would have come in handy.

“So what should we do until the power comes back?” he asked idly.

Naaga shrugged. “Make some tea. I can hold you under a blanket so you can warm up.”

The slight lilt of sarcasm in Naaga’s voice made him smile. “I’m fine.”

“That was not what you said a minute ago.”

“I said it was cold. Not that I was cold.” Although he was a little cold. “At any rate, we’re stuck here for a few hours. Just trying to figure out how to pass the time.” He gave Naaga a long look, dragging his eyes from Naaga’s toes and upwards.

Naaga flushed. “I know _exactly_ what you want to do.”

In spite of the flush and the slight narrowing of his eyes, Naaga allowed Stinger to get a gentle grasp on his wrist and tug him closer, getting him next to him on the floor, legs over his lap. He pressed a long kiss to Naaga’s lips, running his tongue across the closed seam of his lips. Naaga opened and he deepened the kiss, rolling his tongue against Naaga’s. The slightly desperate noise Naaga made was delicious, his hands going to Stinger’s shoulders. One hand threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck. He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist. 

When they broke apart, Naaga’s fingers gently traced his jawline. “You had a dream about your brother last night,” he murmured.

“I know,” he replied with a sigh.

“It sounded bad.”

He didn’t know what noises he’d been making in his sleep, just that he had been reliving Jark Matter’s destruction of his home village, when he woke up to Naaga shaking him awake. He hadn’t had that particularly dream in a long time, and the dream was actually a memory, everything in sharp focus. He saw his brother walk up to their campfire, and he’d thought for a moment that his brother was there because Jark Matter had been defeated. But no, Scorpio had joined Jark Matter and betrayed them. He’d still been fighting his way back towards his brother, hadn’t actually gotten to the part where he yelled out to Aniki. He could practically feel the bruises when his brother had hit him and tossed him aside.

But then he was awake and Naaga was there, brushing his hair out of his eyes. And Naaga didn’t ask questions, just held him close as his breathing evened out. Gods, they were a pair, both plagued with nightmares and fear and dark places. 

If he dreamt in the second part of the night, he didn’t remember. He woke up again at daybreak with his face pressed to the back of Naaga’s neck, arm around his waist with his hand slightly inside his pajama pants, and a leg between his. If Naaga thought any of that was off, he said nothing. They just got up and dressed, and found a coffee shop that served lukewarm coffee and slightly stale croissants. 

“I haven’t had that dream in a long time,” he replied.

“Is it everything with Lucky?”

“Not really,” he said softly. “It’s family, but Lucky’s situation is different.”

Naaga nodded a little, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “It’s still family,” he said finally.

“His father never betrayed him—that wasn’t real.” He let out a harsh breath. “Scorpio was real.”

Naaga’s fingers rubbed the side of his neck as he pressed a long kiss to his lips, trying to soothe him. “It doesn’t reflect badly on you,” Naaga whispered. “You were a child when Scorpio made his choice.”

He sighed. “Sometimes I wonder if the darkness that drove Scorpio is in me too.”

“I don’t think so. You care too much about other people.”

“We had the same parents. How did we come out so differently?”

A shrug. “My sister and I were raised by the same parents. I don’t think she’d ever leave our home system and she thinks emotions are unnecessary.” 

This conversation was definitely not where he had envisioned the evening going. Although having Naaga this close was nice and warm. 

“Besides,” Naaga continued. “You wouldn’t have stayed up the other night to finish the jacket if you didn’t care about others.”

Stinger tried not to roll his eyes. “Tsurugi should not have suggested that.”

Naaga nudged him a little, small smile on his face. “You claim Tsurugi and Lucky annoy you.”

“They do!” he protested. “It’s just… this was a big deal for Lucky. Sometimes it’s nice to have something to commemorate it.” He paused and added, “And you and Kotarou helped.” Well, Naaga helped. Kotarou fell asleep.

Naaga’s smile grew. “You never let us watch you work on things like that. It was interesting.”

Stinger snorted a little. “You and Kotarou don’t give me weird looks.”

“Why would anyone give you weird looks?”

“Because people are dumb.”

Naaga was still smiling as he kissed his cheek. He didn’t say the other part, which was that the whole universe was not out to judge Stinger or even really cared about what he did. Perhaps his realization that his home system had very different ideas of normal was affecting things. They made all their clothes by hand, along with the tents and blankets. The others, even the ones that should have had a better sense of practicality, found that odd. Or maybe it was the fact that he was the one that knew how. But everyone had known how on his home planet. And Naaga was trying to learn some of the things, but Stinger had a lifetime of just knowing this stuff, while all of this was completely new for Naaga.

“Besides,” Naaga said after a moment. “Why do you want to have sex right now?”

“You have a better idea?”

Naaga gave him a withering look yet again, and slipped his hands under his shirt, pressing his palms against his skin. Stinger hissed a little. He’d been able to feel that Naaga’s hands were cold when they kissed, but damn, he was colder than he was letting on. And he’d been the one complaining about the cold? 

“You just want to cuddle?”

“Hmm,” Naaga replied idly. “You’re warm.”

Stinger closed the distance between them, starting a deep kiss. Naaga’s hands slid to his back, fingers brushing the base of his tail. His breath hitched into the kiss. He rolled his tongue against Naaga’s, the accompanying flush and shiver enough to chase away the cold. He could feel Naaga’s fingers growing warmer the longer they pressed against his skin. “How else am I going to warm you up?” he murmured against Naaga’s lips.

Naaga’s expression clearly said he could think of several other ways, but Stinger caught him open-mouthed, starting another long kiss. One hand reached up to unzip his jacket while the other tangled in his hair lazily. When they broke apart, Naaga looked dazed, eyes blown wide with pleasure. One of Naaga’s hands came out from under his shirt, fingers brushing his jaw and wandering down to his neck. Stinger chased his lips, capturing them in a warm, comfortable kiss.

“Gods, I love you,” Stinger said softly, lips close to Naaga’s. 

There was a small smile on Naaga’s face as he gracefully swung his legs out of Stinger’s lap, pulling his remaining hand out from under Stinger’s shirt, and moving as if he were going to stand. He pressed a brief kiss to Stinger’s lips. “Let’s at least get the sleeping bag out,” he whispered, “so we’re not laying directly on this floor.”

Stinger would have rather been in their bed back on the ship, or at least the bed in their room in the capital complex. Turned out that the place was huge and large parts had not been used by Jark Matter in a long time. Cleaning out several rooms and getting them to a usable state had taken only two hours, and then they were able to start work on the planet. Stinger didn’t know who had used the bed before, but the mattress was huge, and they just had a pile of blankets and pillows, no proper sheets. The size of the bed had made Naaga anxious, so he only put the blankets on one part, and wrapped himself around Stinger when they went to bed the first night.

_“Naaga, I’m not going anywhere.”_

_“I know, I just… want you close.”_

Oddly, Naaga had seemed almost lonely at that point. Stinger sang to himself a lot, and had sung to Naaga many times before. He decided to change to a different song that night, one that was softer, slower, soothing. Stinger wrapped both arms around Naaga, using his tail to gently stroke his back. Little by little, he could feel Naaga relaxing. Soon, he was asleep, breathing evenly. The next morning, Stinger had an arm and a leg dead asleep, but Naaga looked rested and calm. Worth it.

He followed Naaga to their packs, unclipping the sleeping bag from his. He unrolled and unzipped the lightweight bag on the floor next to the crate with their Seiza Blasters. The temperature was cool, but their combined body heat meant they only need the sleeping bag and a fleece blanket. He watched for a moment as Naaga took off his shoes and socks, and then slipped out of his jacket. Stinger shed his own shoes and socks, before Naaga was tugging on his jacket, pulling him closer. “It’s cold with you that far away,” he said softly, eyes vulnerable and shining.

Stinger pulled him completely into his lap, the sleeping bag making a soft rustling noise as they moved. He gave Naaga another bruising kiss. Naaga’s hands were pushing his jacket off his shoulders, and he finished the job, pulling his jacket off and near their packs. Their noses bumped as he tried to keep kissing and Naaga tried to pull off his scarf. He laughed a little, kissing Naaga, and then backing up to remove his scarf and shirt in one movement, then stripping Naaga of his own shirt. Naaga hissed a little as the cold hit his exposed skin, and he pressed closer, their hips grinding down. Both of his hands ran down Naaga’s back, the accompanying shiver equally from the cold and pleasure.

Naaga’s hands were on his shoulders as he moved, getting completely into Stinger’s lap and grinding down. Yeah, when they both wanted this and knew where things were headed, a few kisses and touches was really all they needed to get there. Back on the ship, in their bed, he’d take his time, slowly pressing kisses to Naaga’s skin, taking him apart piece by piece. Naaga was making small, needy noises now. He met Stinger’s gaze, hands scrabbling across his shoulders, not sure what to do next or even what he wanted.

Luckily, Stinger had an idea. He gently slid his hands down to Naaga’s ass, lifting him and then pressing him into the sleeping bag on the floor. Naaga kept his hands on Stinger’s shoulders, adjusting himself as he got comfortable. He followed Stinger’s movements, expression trusting and content. Stinger pressed a kiss to his collarbone as he slid down his body, pressing a stray kiss until he reached his belt. He planted a lingering kiss near Naaga’s bellybutton, tongue flicking out to taste Naaga’s skin, which was now pleasantly warm, a pink flush rising in his cheeks and creeping down his neck. Naaga’s fingers touched his hair briefly, and their eyes met, and then he unbuckled Naaga’s belt, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants.

With a slight smile, he pulled off Naaga’s pants and shorts in one go, setting them aside, grabbing a small travel container of lube from his pack. He settled back between Naaga’s legs, noting that Naaga was completely hard, cock curling towards his stomach. He pressed another kiss to Naaga’s stomach, and then leaned back, hand going to stroke his cock once. The needy noise came from deep in his chest, and flush grew redder, spreading to his chest. “Stinger,” Naaga breathed. His fingers threaded through his hair.

Then Stinger got to work. 

He opened the lube and spread some over three fingers, rubbing his fingers together to warm it up. (Really did not want Naaga out of the mood with anything cold right now.) That done, his other hand grasped Naaga’s cock and he ran his tongue over the tip, tasting the pre-come beaded there. His own pants were uncomfortably tight, but he ignored that as he swallowed down as much of Naaga’s cock as he could take. Naaga moaned and the fingers in his hair tightened. Naaga may have attempted to say his name, but any words were lost as Stinger concentrated.

Tongue swirling, he set up a rhythm he liked, teeth scraping gently every so often. He kept working the part of Naaga’s cock not in his mouth with his fist. Naaga’s hips were moving, attempting to chase his mouth. The hand not in his hair clutched the sleeping bag, knuckles white. Stinger nudged one of Naaga’s legs over his shoulder, moving his hand from Naaga’s cock to his ass, lifting him a little, repositioning him so Stinger had maximum access to him. 

He pulled off with an obscene pop. He glanced up at Naaga for a moment, predatory smile on his face. Naaga was completely flushed, mouth open, head titled back in pleasure. He was making incoherent noises and Stinger couldn’t help but be a little proud of making Naaga speechless. Gods, he loved bringing Naaga over the edge again and again, exploring his body, making him react, wanting to tease him, find all the hidden spots that would bring him pleasure. He mouthed at his balls for a moment before moving lower, using the hand on Naaga’s ass to gently spread his cheeks a little, and pressing his tongue to Naaga’s entrance.

“Stinger!” Naaga shouted. Stinger kept one hand on his cock, pressing his cock towards his stomach, thumb working the vein on the underside. He gently circled his entrance with his tongue, and then plunged his tongue in, using small movements to slowly begin to open him up. Naaga was moaning loudly, fingers griping his hair so tightly it hurt. He didn’t care. He slowly slipped in one of his lubed fingers next to his tongue, keeping up the small licking motions. Naaga’s hips were working up and down, aching for more contact. As Stinger got his entire finger in, he removed his tongue and moved back up, taking Naaga’s cock into his mouth once more. 

He crooked his finger just right and got an incoherent shout out of Naaga. Gods, Naaga was not going to last much longer and Stinger wanted more fingers in him before this was over. He slowed down his mouth on his cock and added a second finger. Naaga was panting, breathing erratic. He found purchase again on Naaga’s sweet spot and something resembling a sob came out of Naaga. “Stinger, please,” he was panting.

Okay. He could oblige Naaga. He added a third finger, found his sweet spot once again and just rubbed his fingers against it. That made Naaga actually sob, he was so worked up and so close to the edge. Stinger sucked down his cock in earnest, beginning to lazily thrust his fingers. Stinger got his fingers on his sweet spot at the same time that he gently scraped his teeth down Naaga’s cock. Naaga came with a cry, and Stinger just swallowed down his release. 

Everything was quiet for a moment.

The roaring in Stinger’s ears subsided and Naaga collapsed, boneless, onto the sleeping bag. Stinger’s head was on his stomach, one of his legs still over his shoulder, fingers still deep inside him. Naaga’s fingers loosened in his hair, but still stayed on his head.

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“That was amazing.”

He gently moved Naaga’s leg off his shoulder and sat up, removing his fingers. Naaga reached up, brushing his hair out of his eyes, fingers trailing over his mouth. “The lube…” he started to ask.

“That was the cherry flavored. It’s fine.”

“Why do we have that?”

“For occasions like this.”

He was still sitting between Naaga’s legs, but he reached over to their packs anyways. He pulled out some of the dissolving body wipes and made quick work of cleaning them both up. He was still hard to the point of pain, but didn’t want Naaga to do anything about it nor did he want to. He wanted this to be about Naaga. He got out Naaga’s pajama pants and t-shirt. Shaking still, Naaga sat, drawing his legs together so Stinger was no longer between them. He quickly put on the clothes. Stinger got out his own pajama pants, and shed his own pants and shorts, changing into them quickly. Naaga moved closer to him, hand running across his stomach.

“Do you want me to…”

“No.” Stinger kissed him. “I’m fine. We need to get some sleep.”

Naaga nodded, grabbing the oversized fleece blanket from his pack.

They settled down to sleep, the unzipped sleeping bag making a decent enough bottom layer. Stinger was on his back and Naaga was close to him, partially on top of him. He sighed, wrapping both arms around Naaga. As much as he wanted to be in their bed, this was pretty good too.

\-------------------

The next morning, Stinger opened his eyes at dawn. They’d clearly shifted during the night. Naaga was laying on his chest, between his legs. His face was pressed against the side of his neck, breath hot on his skin. Stinger had one leg slightly bent to cradle Naaga better. One arm and his tail were wrapped around Naaga’s back, and his other hand was on Naaga’s ass. Not in a sexy way, just seemed to be the best place to have his hand to keep Naaga close. One of Naaga’s hands was on his shoulder and the other was loosely wrapped around his upper arm. He was still asleep.

Stinger frowned, trying to remember his dream. He didn’t often want to hang on to his dreams, but this had been different. Not a nightmare or a memory. 

He had been in a tent on his home planet. Just a tent, like so many others in their village. Canvas tent flaps, wooden structure, wooden platform. Gray pre-dawn light had been filtering through the opening between the tent walls. He was sleeping on a cot close to the wooden floor. The desert nights got cold, but he was warm. The mattress on the cot was clearly stuffed with down, and he had a thick afghan and quilt covering him. He was also dressed warmly for the night—flannel pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt. Strange that he was so warm, because he had these exact conditions and remembered being cold.

Then someone else shifted on the cot, and he realized the cot was slightly bigger than the one he remembered. He had an arm around someone else’s waist, and their body heat was making the night bearable and actually pleasant. The person rolled over to face him and he saw a shock of silver hair against the pillow, before focusing on Naaga, who smiled at him sleepily. 

_“Is it time to get up?”_

_“No, gorgeous, go back to sleep.”_

Familiarity, warmth, yes. But pet names?

Now, Naaga actually did stir, opening his eyes and looking up at Stinger. He released Stinger’s shoulder long enough to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice low and rough from sleep.

“Nothing. Just had a dream.”

“A bad one?”

“No.” He paused, trying to figure out how to say things. “I was in my home village, and you were there. Like we were just living our lives in the village.”

Naaga looked thoughtful. “Is it strange I had a similar dream?”

“Really?”

He nodded. “We were in an apartment on my home planet. Like it was and wasn’t home. The sheets, the bed, everything was like it would have been. Except you were there. And that wasn’t unusual. Just like everything was natural. Happy.”

Huh. He held Naaga close for a moment, not sure what to make of the dreams.

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“You know what I want right now?”

“Hopefully, the same thing as me—a lot of breakfast, a long, hot shower, and a real bed.”

“Exactly.” His finger traced Stinger’s jawline and his lips, before he added, “I have an idea for the shower.” He looked shy, a little flushed. When that happened, Stinger always knew he was referring to sex.

“If your idea is to suck me off in the shower, you’re going to have to wait your turn, because I’m doing that to you first.”

Naaga’s laugh was inaudible, but Stinger felt it against his chest. He looked a little pensive when the laugh passed.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Just… is it strange that we’ve kissed or touched every part of each other’s bodies?”

“No. Not when you love someone.” He paused, and nudged Naaga gently. “There’s definitely one place on me you can explore a little more when you feel ready.”

Another inaudible laugh. “We’ll talk about that when we’re back on the ship for longer.”

“Okay.” He rubbed a hand under Naaga’s shirt, touching warm skin. The fleece blanket was securely over them, and this space was warm and cozy, in spite of his back twinging from laying on a floor. Sleeping bag was a shitty cushion. “We should message Balance and tell him to bring breakfast.”

“Spada is probably already up and cooking.” Naaga reached one arm out of the blanket and unplugged his Seiza Blaster. He sent Balance a message, bringing his Seiza Blaster back into the warmth of their makeshift bed. Naaga got a message back, which he replied to, and then another. On the fourth message, Stinger looked at him questioningly. Naaga just shook his head. “I don’t want Balance to bring a practical joke amount of food.”

Stinger snorted a small laugh.

The water in the building was working, so they reluctantly got up and washed up, getting dressed. They needed to head back to the capitol after the power station, because they were almost out of protein bars and had no further clean clothes. 

At the power station, Balance brought them a reasonable amount of food. Spada had clearly been in omlette mode, because he’d made them vegetable, ham and cheese omlettes, with a side of roasted potatoes and fruit. He’d even sent coffee for Stinger and tea for Naaga. Balance could handle patching the solar grid himself, so they were able to eat breakfast while he worked, and then all three of them headed back together.

Honestly, Stinger had had worse starts to his days. Naaga and breakfast tended to make things better.

\-------------------

“Stinger! Naaga!”

He paused from where he and Naaga had been walking down the hall, headed towards their room. None of the rooms here had private bathrooms, so they’d had to go to one down the hall. Luckily, the shower stalls were in individual rooms that locked. They’d already endured a Balance comment on the length of the shower, because the mechanical lifeform had been walking down the hall as they were coming out of the bathroom. 

But the shower had been satisfying.

Naaga held their laundry under one arm, and Stinger had their towels over his shoulder, holding a mesh bag with their shower things. Naaga was holding his hand, walking slightly ahead of him. Stinger just felt lethargic and sore. He knew Naaga did as well, but now that they were really close to collapsing into bed until lunch, Naaga was hurrying. The end was in sight, or whatever. 

He turned. Lucky was jogging to catch up to them.

He frowned. He really did not want to volunteer for more work that morning. They were dressed in comfortable clothes anyways. Hopefully that was enough of a hint to Lucky that they’d be available for more work after lunch.

“Hey, uh,” Lucky suddenly looked awkward. “Thanks.”

Stinger didn’t say anything, just frowned further. Naaga actually asked, “For what?”

“You know, for all your help with this.”

“You’ve done that for both of us,” Naaga pointed out.

“We’re friends, right?” Lucky shrugged. “But thank you.”

Naaga just replied with, “You’re welcome.”

“Oh, and, uh,” Lucky rubbed the back of his neck. “I never told you guys, but I’m really happy for both of you. You seem... really good together.”

This time Naaga frowned.

Lucky seemed to realize, for once, that he needed to end the conversation. “So… see you at lunch!” And he was off.

A pause.

“Is he gone?”

Naaga looked down the hallway. “Yes.”

“Good. I don’t ever want to talk about that again with him.”

Naaga just shook his head with a small smile as they went into their room and got into bed.

Sometimes he thought Naaga really was the best thing about him.

And really, was that so bad?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So 38 has not made it out onto my sources yet, but looks ridiculous, and 39 looks equally as ridiculous, as only Super Sentai can be. Lulz. Side note: I watched Episode of Stinger... seriously want to write a chapter (which would actually be further back in this continuity) where he goes back after to the ship after all that crap and Naaga takes care of him...
> 
> Anywho, thank you for continuing to support this fic! Your kudos, comments and hits always make my day! I am glad there is a continued audience for this - my readers are the absolute best! Yay!
> 
> Drop me a note every so often and let me know you're out there - here or on tumblr. :) I am definitely doing a holiday chapter next month (episodes better cooperate with me!) And I have an outline for an epilogue, and a few other thoughts. Let me know if there is anything you'd like to see and I am happy to entertain it! :D Stay tuned everyone!


	25. Memories of Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Stinger woke up, his head was pounding and his mouth was dry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Been three weeks since my last update, eh? Here's a new chapter! Set slightly during and after episode 39. Spoilers therein, watch before you read.

**25/ Memories of Home**   
_Hope is being able to see that there is light despite of all the darkness._

When Stinger woke up, his head was pounding and his mouth was dry. 

The low light in the room hurt his head, and he tried to bury his face in the pillow. Except that moving also hurt and made his head feel like loose pieces were rattling around. What in the actual fuck was wrong with him? He tried to remember what the hell he ate or drank yesterday, and was drawing a blank after getting back from Planet Game.

Fingers were smoothing through his hair.

Naaga.

Or at least, that better have been Naaga. He had bigger problems if it wasn’t.

“Why do I feel hungover?” he muttered.

“Side effect from the planet.” Oh good, Naaga. “Kotarou seemed to get the least, because he’s so young. Raptor thinks he metabolized it faster. Spada and Lucky got a good dose of it. You were hit the worst.”

“What—”

“Raptor’s not sure, but it had something to do with Doctor Anton’s alternate universe program. Basically, you acted like you were under the influence of alcohol. She was pretty sure you’d feel hungover this morning.”

“But I didn’t actually drink any alcohol?”

“No.”

“Good.”

A small piece of him felt relieved. The rest of him just felt awful. He felt Naaga’s weight on the bed, and then Naaga was pressing a cool cloth to his forehead and cheeks. “I’m glad you’re back,” Naaga said softly. “You were… difficult… to deal with last night.”

“What happened?”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Getting back from the planet. We had Champ.”

“Champ’s here. He’s fine.” A pause, and then, “Actually, Champ carried you here. You were already acting out of it by then. You tried to argue with Champ about going to our room.” Another pause. “At least you didn’t start taking off any clothes until Champ got you here and it was just us.”

“No,” he said weakly against the pillow, and then realized, “I’m not wearing pants.”

“You were insistent that they needed to go.” Naaga paused, “Can you take some pills?”

“Yes, give me painkillers and water.”

Managing to only partially open his eyes, he accepted the painkillers, and then the bottle of water, downing the pills quickly and gulping down some water. Gods, he didn’t miss drinking, not at all, and he really did not miss this part. 

Well, even if he wasn’t wearing pants, he was definitely wearing a shirt, which weirdly reminded him of nights on his home planet. While the days were blisteringly hot and the sand got into everything (literally everything.) Tents, in spite of screens, needed to be swept out and bedding shaken out before sleeping. The nights got chilly and downright cold in winter. His first two relationships (if they could even be called that) had been less formal, so nothing physical happened in their tents. But that last one, before everything, years ago, had been closer to a real relationship and one of the things they did was wear long tunic-style shirts to bed (like Stinger was now) and skip the pants, tangling their legs together under warm blankets. That opened them up to all kinds of possibilities early in the morning.

Kind of begged the question why he’d reverted to that, which was only a few months in the grand scheme of his life. In the last few years, he had switched to sleeping without a shirt. (He got hot in bed easily and sleeping in only pajama pants or his shorts helped with that.) 

He finally felt steady enough to open his eyes. The lights were still low, which he appreciated. But he felt a pang of guilt when he focused on Naaga, who looked exhausted. He reached out and rested a hand on Naaga’s thigh. He was dressed, and seemed to have showered, but was wearing his sweater rather than his jacket. He didn’t have shoes on yet. “I’m sorry,” Stinger murmured.

“You couldn’t help it,” Naaga replied, covering his hand with his own.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

A small smile. “You didn’t want to let me.” Naaga brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I had to be very persuasive.” 

“Hmm. Really?”

“Really. Had to promise to let you do all kinds of things in the morning.”

“I bet.”

“You had a good argument for why you didn’t think we needed to be wearing pants, and I had to explain that we were on a spaceship and not in the desert.” The smile grew a little. “And then you told me that was a technicality and it would still apply.”

Stinger snorted a laugh, but that made his head hurt and he ended up wincing. 

“Gods, that planet did a number on me,” he murmured.

“What do you remember?”

“I was a… jester… I think. Couldn’t fight, and didn’t want to run away, but that’s what happened. All I could really do was sing and juggle.”

“You juggle?”

“No. I don’t.”

Naaga ran his fingers through his hair. “At least you got stuck doing something you’re good at.”

“What? Sing?” Stinger winced again. “I don’t sing in front of the others.” He tried to shift a little closer to Naaga. “I had to sing to snap Champ out of it.”

“Really?” Naaga sounded a little impressed. 

“It was really bad. I was making it up as I was going along. If Champ tells anyone, I’m taking him apart and I’m not kidding.”

“I’m glad you and Champ are okay.”

“And then I came back here and started taking my clothes off?”

Naaga shrugged. “You weren’t hurting anything, and we were alone, so I decided to let you.”

The painkillers were slowly starting to kick in, so Stinger rolled over on his back. He swore softly at Naaga’s latest statement.

“Stinger?” Naaga asked.

“Hmm?”

“You said the no pants thing was better to stay warm at night and then have sex.”

“I’ll tell you more when I feel better, but it was something I did on my home planet, years ago.”

He looked up at Naaga. In spite of how tired he looked, he had a slight quirk to his lips, meaning he found something about all of this amusing. 

“What?” he asked softly, nudging Naaga.

Naaga shook his head. “When you all called in and I saw what was happening to you, I was worried. But you seem to have figured out how to overcome it, because you came back.” He paused. “You were in a _state_ , but you were back.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes. The amusement and relief, Stinger was always amazed how expressive Naaga had gotten, but was subtle. He’d realized too often that he knew Naaga was upset or frustrated or excited, but the others had no idea. They couldn’t tell that Naaga was expressing anything. “You really need to take a shower,” Naaga added.

Stinger groaned and pulled the blankets over his head.

“Champ said to call him if you gave me any trouble. I think he’d be really happy to come in here and put you in the shower.”

Stinger pulled the blankets down. “Was that a threat?”

Naaga just looked neutral and noncommittal, but the tiny smile was threatening to break out again. Stinger nudged him again. 

“You’re getting good at that,” he commented. He tried to sit up and made it halfway, so he was slumped against the pillow. “And if it makes you happy, I will take a shower. Just give me a minute.”

“Well, Champ—”

“Don’t call Champ. I’m moving as fast as I can.”

But Naaga was not reaching for his Seiza Blaster, and the tiny smile actually appeared on his face. Knowing Naaga, he probably wanted to change the sheets on the bed. Because, and now Stinger could actually smell himself, he was fairly ripe. Stale sweat, if nothing else. He swung his legs out of bed and adjusted his shirt before tentatively standing up. He only swayed a little, but his head kept pounding viciously. 

“When you’re done, we need to go to breakfast. You need to try to eat something. We’re going back down to the planet to look for the Perseus Kyuu Energy.”

The idea of food made bile rise in the back of his throat, but he kept steady. He was not actually going to throw up this morning. Besides, when was the last time he ate? Breakfast yesterday? That had to be the other part of Naaga’s concern. And Naaga had probably also learned that protein helped with hangovers. 

He was almost to the bathroom when Naaga just said, “Stinger?”

He turned, questioning.

“Last night, you asked me if I was seeing anyone.” A pause, and then, “You started crying when I said I was.”

Maybe Naaga’s genuine smile was worth the absolute fool he’d made of himself last night.

\------------------

A few days later, the climate controls on the ship went on the fritz. Raptor and Balance were able to figure out the cause, but the repair would take a while. They were on their way to the Cassiopeia System, so their shifts were mostly maintenance on the ship and training. Everyone was bundled up on their way to do anything. Naaga spent the morning miserable, and downed enough tea for several people. Stinger knew he was freezing, but wasn’t complaining or saying anything. At lunch, Stinger could feel Naaga shaking and they weren’t sitting that close together.

That afternoon, Stinger had a break and that gave him an idea. He had picked up some fabric for a low price at a planet they’d stopped on recently—some jersey, flannel and cotton. The colors were all neutral or black, and he knew he’d use the fabric for a variety of things. Remembering what he’d told Naaga about staying warm on his home planet, he spent his break time that afternoon putting together a simple, tunic-style shirt for Naaga—black, hitting mid-thigh, wide neck, three-quarter length sleeves. Overall, soft and comfortable. The shirt could be worn to sleep or during the day if he wanted.

During dinner, Naaga had gone beyond being miserably cold and was practically numb. Stinger gave him soup directly from the stove and that brought a little life back to him. He then made tea way hotter than Naaga usually liked, and he just clutched the mug between his mitten-covered hands. Balance appeared and reported that the climate controls should be fixed by mid-morning, which still gave them a whole night of the unbearable cold. 

He set up a portable heater in Kotarou’s room, and made sure he was bundled up before going to bed. Kotarou was asleep soon enough, and was not shivering, skin warm to the touch. Raptor promised to check on him a few times during the night.

Back in their room, Naaga was in his space the moment he returned.

“I thought you were going to shower?” he asked as Naaga wrapped his arms around him.

“Too cold,” Naaga murmured. “Want you here.”

The cold had reduced Naaga to sentence fragments. Stinger rubbed his back. At least Naaga was back to shivering and not the numbness that had given Stinger stomach aches back at dinner. He made sure the portable heater was set up in their room, and then got out their pajamas, including the new shirt he’d made for Naaga. He turned up the shower water to just below scalding, and got them both in. (He had to help Naaga with some buttons and zippers, because Naaga was shivering so hard.) They didn’t exactly wash as thoroughly as they could have, but the shower did a good job of allowing Naaga to thaw out and melt against him, both literally and figuratively. 

Stinger had Naaga get dressed in front of the heater deliberately. He put two extra blankets on their bed, and then spent some time towel-drying Naaga’s hair. 

Naaga was chilly, but not nearly as cold as he had been.

Soon enough, they were getting into bed.

“Everything?” Naaga asked, sounding uncertain.

“Everything except the shirt.”

“Stinger… it’s really cold.”

“I know. Trust me. You’ll warm up fast.”

Stinger shed his extra clothing—socks, pajama pants, sweater. He got under the blankets, and held them open for Naaga to get into bed. Naaga was standing near the heater, still looking uncertain. His desire to be close to Stinger won out over his uncertainty. He quickly took off his socks, pajama pants, sweater and hat. He half-dashed to the bed, and scurried under the covers with Stinger. 

With the room pleasantly dark, Stinger only took a few moments to arrange them—he ultimately got Naaga on his side, and he pressed against his back. He had an arm and his tail over Naaga’s waist, and one of his legs completely over Naaga’s. He threaded their fingers together. His other arm was under the pillow that they both ended up sharing. Naaga pressed back against him, sighing happily. He was warm and relaxed, for the first time all day.

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“You were right. This is really warm.” Naaga snuggled back a little. “Thank you for the shirt.”

Stinger resisted the urge to get a hand under his shirt and demonstrate the full range of things they could get up to like this, not just keeping warm. But Naaga was relaxed, practically dead weight already and he wasn’t even asleep yet. Any other filthy thoughts Stinger could come up with would wait until morning. They were both up early anyways.

“Will you sing to me?”

“Always.” Stinger pressed a kiss to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, pleasantly exposed from the shirt. “Any requests?” he whispered, tone teasing.

“Not the really terrible song you made up for Champ.”

Stinger snorted against the back of his neck. “What did Champ tell you?”

“Just that it was bad—you mashed together the alternate reality world and real life.”

He pressed another kiss to his skin, taking a moment to suck a mark that made Naaga shiver. Naaga shifted just a little, enough to turn his head, gently bumping his nose against Stinger’s. He got that hint, and caught him open-mouthed, giving him a long, lazy kiss. Naaga hummed into the kiss, tightening their fingers together. When they broke apart, Stinger pressed a final short kiss to his lips. Naaga settled back down on the bed.

“As I walk,” Stinger sang softly. “The shadows stretch into the evening.”

Naaga closed his eyes, relaxing fully into the bed as Stinger continued to sing.

Stinger could feel Naaga’s breathing, deep and even, as he stopped singing and pressed a final kiss to the back of Naaga’s neck. He closed his eyes, snuggling just a little closer to Naaga.

When he woke up, the alarm was still a ways from going off.

Naaga was awake, not yet moving.

Stinger rubbed a hand over his thigh. “Good morning,” he whispered in his ear.

He felt, rather than heard, Naaga’s laugh. “It’s not morning.” A pause, and then, “Still the middle of the night.” Naaga pressed back against him. “Still cold out there.”

Stinger slid his hand from Naaga’s thigh, touching soft skin. As he reached the hem of the shirt, he just pushed the shirt up as he made his way up Naaga’s side. He paused as he reached his waist, running his hand from his side to his stomach. He pressed a kiss to the exposed part of his shoulder, feeling Naaga shiver with pleasure against him. Stinger ran his tongue over Naaga’s skin, gently sucking a mark into his shoulder. Naaga shivered hard again, a small whine rising in the back of his throat. Stinger felt him inhale sharply.

He rubbed a hand across Naaga’s stomach. “Want me to warm you up?” he said softly. He let his hand wander a little lower, but not low enough to hit where Naaga wanted, judging by the way his hips were moving. Stinger was already semi-hard against his backside. 

“Don’t stop,” Naaga breathed.

Stinger laughed a little. They’d barely started and Naaga didn’t want him to stop?

“It’s not funny,” Naaga continued, rolling over to face him. “I want you,” he murmured, voice low and hoarse and full of promise.

“Hmm,” Stinger hummed against him, fully pushing his shirt up to his waist. “So you do want me to warm you up after all?”

“Yes,” was the soft response. Naaga’s eyes flicked away for a moment before coming back up to meet his gaze. “Besides, what else are we going to do until breakfast?”

A tiny smile quirked Naaga’s lips. Stinger felt himself fully smile, wrapping an arm around Naaga’s waist and pulling him close, pressing a deep, messy kiss to his lips. He rolled his tongue against Naaga’s, swallowing the gasp and delighting in the accompanying shiver. Naaga was getting good at the teasing, and Stinger had just given him a lot of ammunition recently. Weirdly, he was kind of turned on by Naaga venturing more into giving him a hard time. Granted, Naaga was still incredibly uncomfortable with that idea around anyone other than him and maybe Balance. 

He rolled them slightly, pressing Naaga into the mattress. In spite of them being under the blankets, Naaga moved gracefully, neatly getting Stinger between his legs as he rolled them. Stinger could feel the cold outside against the back of his neck, but under the blankets, they were pleasantly warm, about to get hot if things kept going the way Stinger wanted. Naaga slid his hands around his neck, fingers threading through the hair at nape of his neck. Naaga pulled him down to continue the bruising kiss. This was hot and wet, and Stinger nipped at Naaga’s bottom lip as they broke apart to breath. 

Naaga’s hands were on the hem of his own shirt, pulling the fabric up and out of their way. Stinger lowered his hips fully against Naaga’s, sliding their erections against one another. He fully hardened upon feeling Naaga’s hardness against him. He ground down, ducking his head to suck another kiss near Naaga’s collarbone. He tugged Naaga’s shirt down a little, exposing more skin, continuing the suck marks into the soft skin, grinding against Naaga.

He felt Naaga’s hands slid down from his waist, fingers finding the base of his tail, and then pressing gently into the base, moving down and working the skin on his back just below his tail. He made a please noise against Naaga’s skin, and then moaned as Naaga lightly tugged on the base of his tail. Gods, Naaga was the only person he’d been with to get that kind of reaction from touching his tail—just his tail and nothing else. He nipped at Naaga’s skin, reaching under the pillow for the items he’d put there. He put them next to them under the covers. 

Naaga heard the lube open. “Stinger?” he asked.

“What?” he murmured.

“Do we…” he was searching for a word. “… have room?”

“Yes,” he replied softly. “And we’ll be able to continue to stay warm here. I’ve got everything covered. Trust me.”

Naaga looked like he had more questions, but his pupils were blown wide and his hips were moving of their own accord. He was hot and bothered and more interested in taking care of the present situation than asking more about the logistics. 

Stinger poured some lube over three fingers and rubbed his fingers together.

Naaga spread his legs further, one hand reaching up to thread through Stinger’s hair and drag him down for a kiss. Naaga gasped into the kiss and tugged on Stinger’s tail again as he gently worked one finger into him. Stinger broke the kiss, leaning down to press a kiss on his shoulder as he crooked his finger just right. Naaga’s shout was low and hoarse, and his back arched. Stinger pressed his free hand to his stomach, getting him back on the bed.

He slowly worked a second finger inside him.

As he gently spread both fingers, Naaga was reaching for the lube. “Naaga—” he started.

But Naaga cut him off with, “Don’t want to wait.”

What the hell, was his only thought with an internal shrug. They didn’t go with minimal prep very often, and Naaga would stop him if anything was uncomfortable. Somehow, even in the extremely low light of their room (darker even still under the blankets), Naaga got the lube open again and spread some over Stinger’s cock. Stinger couldn’t help the pleased noise he made against Naaga’s skin, taking a moment to taste his skin.

He removed his fingers and then Naaga was tugging him closer, arms and legs wrapped around him. He took a moment to fully guide himself in, relishing how hot and tight Naaga always was, how much he loved his feeling, bottoming out, both of them as close as possible. Naaga moaned, deep in his chest and pulled Stinger into a kiss. The space under the blanket was warm, Naaga’s skin hot against his. They were both sweating a little, shirts clinging to them. Naaga’s hand went completely under the back of his shirt, running the length of his back and brushing the top of his tail.

“Stinger,” Naaga breathed.

“You are so amazing,” he muttered, pulling back and thrusting in. Naaga whined, fingers digging into his skin. He thrust a second time, and Naaga moaned. Definitely hitting something he liked.

He set a lazy pace, slowly building to the edge, but in no rush. Naaga clung to him, hips moving to meet his pace, adjusting himself to allow Stinger better access. Naaga was making nonsense sounds against his skin, almost incoherent with his longing and need. Everything was hot and fast and just them in this tiny, dark space. Stinger wanted to bask in this, this small spot that was just them.

Naaga’s hips were losing the rhythm, and he was close to the edge. Stinger reached between their bodies and grasped his length. That was all Naaga needed. He tumbled over the edge with a cry, coming hard between their bodies. Stinger followed him a moment later, bottoming out and coming deep inside him.

He was boneless, breathing hard. Naaga just kept his arms wrapped around him, holding him close, fingers stroking down his back. 

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“Do we have to get up?”

Stinger knew what he was asking. They’d fallen asleep directly after before, and not bothered to clean up. (Or the minimum of cleaning them with a discarded shirt and then going to sleep.) But this was early in the morning. Even though they still had lots of time before they needed to be anywhere, they’d eventually have to get up and get ready. Naaga was asking if they had to get up, or if they were just going to stay here in the warmth, ignoring any slight discomfort.

“No,” he replied. “I’ve got that covered.”

He reached out, pulling the small hand towel to him. He quickly cleaned the mess on their stomachs, and then moved the towel, giving Naaga a soft instruction to lift his hips. When he pulled out, he was able to catch most of the rest. He pulled their shirts down and into place, and then tossed the towel with their laundry. They settled back into their positions from the night before. Naaga was on his side and Stinger was pressed against his back.

“You’ve done this before,” Naaga murmured.

Stinger slipped his tail around his waist, and then took his hand, threading their fingers together. Naaga’s other hand rested over his tail. He pressed a kiss to the back of his neck.

“Does that matter?” he finally asked.

Naaga snuggled back against him. After a long moment, he replied, “It’s really silly, but I don’t like thinking about how you’ve done this with other people.”

Stinger nudged him a little, kissing his exposed shoulder again. “That was years ago, and the big difference is I love you.” He paused, and then added, “You’re also not required to think about it.”

“Hard not to, sometimes.” He exhaled. “Did you do this with someone on your home planet?”

Stinger hoped he meant the no pants thing and being prepared to have sex under the covers without getting up at all, because he replied, “This was a necessity on my home planet. We just happen to have a need for that skill set right now.”

“Every night?”

Stinger nudged him again. “I thought you didn’t like thinking about this.”

“Well,” Naaga said, with a slight huff that made Stinger proud, “now I’m curious.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Who you were with before?”

“You really want to know more about that?”

Naaga shrugged. “Maybe if it’s not unknown it will be less unpleasant to think about.”

Stinger shook his head, suppressing a laugh. This was so like Naaga. He didn’t want to think about something, and then got scientific about it—he wanted to know more, figuring that knowing more would take the scary, unknown parts out, and he’d be able to process things better. Stinger had never exactly hidden his past from Naaga—he knew way more than the others, including much more than the details he’d chosen to share with Spada when Naaga was under Akenba’s influence. Naaga knew about Makino-baachan, and knew about the time when his drinking got out of control (which was why he no longer drank alcohol.) He told Naaga stories about growing up in his home village, and had told him all about Mika. (They’d stopped on the ship to resupply soon after that, and Stinger had been a mess. Burying too many bodies and not being able to save one innocent person twisted by Jark Matter. Neither of them had slept that night. Naaga just held him until morning.)

Past sexual partners should not be a problem either.

“Hmm,” he started softly. “There’s three. You know that. My first girlfriend, if you could call what we had that, was when I was in high school. We were the same age, seventeen.” He let out a long breath. “We used to go to an old supply building to have sex. Then I’d watch her study. Her parents were big government officials and she wanted to go to college off-planet.” He shrugged. “Watching her study made me realize I need something other than inevitable military service. So I applied for the android mechanic program. We broke up after a few weeks. She got into college.”

“Do you know what happened to her?”

“No idea. She’s either a top official resisting Jark Matter or she joined them. Could have gone either way with her drive for success.”

“Then?”

“I would not call the next person a girlfriend. We’d get drunk and have sex. In a supply building. Different one from before. It was about two years later. I was in the android program and working in the village. It’s the desert—not much to do, except drink and go out into the dunes and cause trouble. She was training to be an apothecary—knew her stuff, even when she was too drunk to speak. She found someone else.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. A warrior in the village—she was back from military service and slightly older than us. I understood. I think everyone was attracted to her.”

Naaga’s fingers tightened on his tail just a little.

“The last one was before Jark Matter,” he continued softly. “Likely the only thing that could really be called a relationship. We were in the same military unit, and back on the planet for a few weeks. His family had left the planet earlier in the year, so he needed a place to stay. Started out just staying in my tent, but things escalated from there.” He squeezed Naaga’s hand. “Desert nights get cold, so we’d do things like this to keep warm.”

“What happened?”

“Mutual parting of ways. He was switching to a new unit that was moving out. I was staying in the village to help reinforce with the guards.”

They were quiet for a few moments, Naaga clearly turning over the information.

“You know what?” he whispered to Naaga. He made a questioning noise. “All of this stuff is better than I ever could have imagined with you.”

“Because you love me?”

“Because we love each other,” he corrected gently. 

Naaga released his hand and then rolled over so they were facing each other. His hands rested on Stinger’s chest and he closed the small distance between them, starting a long, lazy kiss. “I didn’t know if I would like this,” Naaga said softly. “Being in a relationship with you. But I just wanted to be closer to you and now I can’t imagine going back to the way I was.”

“Even then, you were still interested in me.” Stinger smiled. “I wanted you around because you were thoughtful and quiet.”

Naaga’s smile was almost imperceptible. “Lucky and Hame annoyed you, didn’t they?”

Stinger snorted. “They still do. I think I’ve gotten better at ignoring it.”

Naaga wrapped an arm around his waist.

Stinger sighed, pulling him closer. This was wonderful. 

Then Naaga shifted uncomfortably.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Then go.”

“It’s cold out there.”

“Then hurry. I’ll keep your spot warm.”

Naaga gave him a withering expression, but got out of bed and padded quickly into their bathroom. He left the light off, but Stinger could hear him. He thought, for a moment, that Naaga would take a moment to clean up further, now that he was out of bed. But the cold clearly gave him other priorities. He heard all the familiar noises of going through the motions, and then Naaga hurried back into the room and practically dove into bed. Stinger caught him with a small _oof_ and then got the blankets securely over them again. Naaga snuggled up against him, skin already cool just from the small amount of time outside. 

Then Naaga felt like he was laughing.

“What?”

“Just… you were kind of funny when you were out of it from Planet Game and cried when I told you I was seeing someone.”

“Oh really?” Stinger asked, feeling himself smile fully.

“You offered me money to break up with him.”

Stinger snorted. “That sounds about right.”

“I finally convinced you that you were the one I was seeing, and you were really happy.” Naaga paused. “I know you love me a lot, but that just… you were really crushed by the idea I’d be with someone else and then were so relieved I was seeing you after all.” He pressed a brief kiss to his lips.

They were quiet, the warmth slowly settling back into them.

“The thing with the shirts was a really good idea,” Naaga whispered.

Stinger hauled him close and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

He had no idea what he’d do without Naaga.

But fucking hell, he was in love with Naaga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I kind of want to do something with Stinger in the shame cloud from episode 40, but I was already 3/4 done with this chapter. We shall see, right? The series seems to be veering back to Lucky. And really, I am going to make the holiday chapter of this work, no matter what! (Even if we have to go slightly more modified timeline than usual!) Time for some winter fluff!
> 
> As always, HUGE thank you to my readers! Thank you for reading, commenting and kudos-ing. You all are the best, and I really would not still be writing this piece without you all! Drop me a line here or on tumblr and let me know you're out there!
> 
> Stay tuned everyone! I may or may not do another chapter before the holiday fluff. Between the shame cloud and potential events in 41, we shall see. Peace out and have a great weekend!


	26. the Razor's Edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stinger slumped outside the infirmary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working hard like a baby owl... first part is set just after episode 40, and the rest is after episode 41. Only very mild spoilers for 40, but massive spoilers for 41. Watch before you read. Enjoy!

**26/ The Razor’s Edge**   
_Before you give up, think of the reason you held on for so long._

Stinger collapsed onto the mattress, spent and satisfied. He gathered Naaga into his arms, pulling him against his chest, murmuring, “Come here, baby, I’ve got you. That was amazing. You were amazing. Gods, I love you so much. Naaga…” The pet name just rolled off his tongue without a second thought and Stinger could barely pay attention to that small detail. He felt boneless and relaxed, legs shaking, dull ache settling into his backside. 

“Stinger,” Naaga whined, voice shaking, head on his chest. Stinger threaded his fingers through Naaga’s hair, keeping him close, using his tail to stroke up and down his back. 

He didn’t know if Naaga finally agreed to this because of Stinger’s two-day bad mood over the deathball game in the Cassiopeia System, or if he finally just felt comfortable enough to say yes. Probably a mixture of the two.

“Naaga,” he had whispered earlier that afternoon. “We are so close to breaking the barrier to the Jark Matter home world. We have no idea what’s awaiting us. Just once, I want to feel you. I want you inside me, marking me like I do to you.”

Naaga had run his thumb over his cheekbone, studying him with that eerie clear gaze. Stinger just kept his eyes up, watching for Naaga’s reaction. After a moment, Naaga exhaled and smiled a little. “You’re right,” he responded softly. “We don’t know what’s there. And I know you’ve wanted to try this for a while.” He shrugged. “I’m just… nervous, I guess.”

“I’ll help you.” He gently nudged Naaga. “Besides, you’ve done this to yourself. I think we can figure this out when you’re doing it to me.”

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong, or if something is uncomfortable.”

“You won’t do anything wrong.”

And he really hadn’t.

They’d slowly undressed, taking their time. The kisses were long and bruising and just a little desperate. His finger bit into Naaga’s skin, leaving marks on his arms and back. He was on edge, body hot and throbbing by the time they were both completely undressed. He settled on his back, spreading his legs and getting Naaga in between. They already had the lube on the bed, so Naaga hesitated just a little. Stinger pressed the heel of his foot to the small of Naaga’s back, using the leverage to pull Naaga close. He kissed him gently, soothing. “I said I’d help,” he whispered.

Naaga was flushed and hard, cock curling towards his stomach. In spite of how turned on he was, he still looked just a touch lost, a little in over his head. Stinger grabbed the lube and Naaga’s hand. He poured some of the lube over his fingers. He spread his legs a little further, guiding Naaga’s fingers down to his entrance. “Just go slowly,” Stinger breathed. “And use a lot of lube.”

The quick head nod did not entirely mask the nerves underneath. Naaga was shaking a little. Stinger kept his hand on Naaga’s wrist as he gently circled his entrance with one finger. He couldn’t help the gasp, followed by the moan when that first finger entered him. Naaga was going almost infuriatingly slow, working that first finger into him. Stinger moved his hips, taking more of that finger. 

“Stinger?” Naaga sounded a little worried.

“I’m fine. You can go faster.” He released Naaga’s wrist and pulled him down for a messy kiss. “You know how fast we can prep you, right?”

Naaga’s snort was almost a laugh. “I do this all the time,” he reminded him as he fully thrust that first finger in and out. Stinger made a noise as he added a second finger. He threaded his fingers through Naaga’s hair again, relaxing himself around Naaga’s fingers. He had done this before, but that had been years ago. And really, he was the one on top the most often then. At the start of this, he sometimes wondered if their roles would have been switched, but Naaga had always been interested the other way around. Just the idea of Stinger fucking him made Naaga hot and hard.

He’d nearly shouted then, because Naaga’s fingers crooked just right and rubbed against his sweet spot. He was panting, staring down between their bodies, watching Naaga’s hand work between his legs. Gods, that had been _hot_ , Naaga flushed and shaking, hair in his eyes. But his fingers were steady, assaulting his sweet spot, pulling embarrassingly loud noises from him. 

“Are you okay?” Naaga had asked.

Stinger ground down on his fingers, relishing the burn, the slight pain soon promising to melt away into pleasure. “Spread your fingers,” he breathed, “and then add another.”

“Stop being in a hurry.”

“Want you inside me.”

And that had happened quickly. Naaga spent some time spreading his fingers, before he slipped in a third finger, finding a lazy pace to thrust his fingers in and out. Stinger moaned, moving his hips, trying to angle himself to give Naaga more access. Naaga finally removed his fingers, and Stinger grabbed the lube again, rubbing some over Naaga’s cock. Naaga groaned at the sensation. He was hard and shaking a little.

Stinger wrapped his legs around Naaga’s waist, hand between their bodies, guiding Naaga inside. Again, he went slowly, eventually bottoming out. Stinger lifted his head, pressing long kisses to his lips, nonsense encouragement coming out of him. The burn subsided after a moment, and he moved his hips a little. “Naaga, move,” he whispered.

The rest was a blur of heat and perfection.

He came between their bodies, Naaga deep inside him, hand on his cock. Naaga followed him over the edge a moment later. He pulled out and that was when Stinger gathered him up in his arms. He gently lifted Naaga’s chin, pressing a lazy kiss to his lips.

“You okay?” he asked softly.

Naaga nodded, then wrinkled his nose a little. “I think I prefer this the other way.”

Stinger laughed, kissing him again.

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“We have all four Kyuutamas now.”

“I know.”

“I think I’m scared.”

“Me too.”

He held Naaga tightly. He had no idea what awaited them in the Crux System or on Planet Southern Cross. If all the crap in the Cepheus System and the Perseus System were any indication… and then the stupid deathball game in the Cassiopeia System. A baseball game turned deadly. That was nothing compared to the home world, where all those forces would be together.

They had the Kyuutama. And each other.

This had to work.

Jark Matter couldn’t win.

\------------------

Stinger slumped outside the infirmary.

Everyone had been stabilized, for now. His chest felt tight, heart racing, lump in his throat. He didn’t think he’d been crying, but his cheeks felt wet. This was… he had no words. He’d been through awful things, seen terrible acts committed on innocent people. But this… he’d never considered the full strength of Jark Matter, never imagined what might have been waiting for them in the Crux System. He’d naively thought this would be like before, like the governors or vice shoguns. Might take them a few tries, but they’d always be able to overcome people hellbent on their own superiority. 

And this… Lucky’s father…

At least he had known his brother betrayed their people and joined Jark Matter. Lucky was going through so many ups and downs and uncertainty. Stinger wasn’t surprised that Lucky disappeared. Tsurugi had seemed like he wanted to find him, but Garou was so badly injured that Stinger needed his help in stabilizing the wounds. Raptor got back to the infirmary from settling Champ and Balance in a maintenance bay, and they got Garou into a medical pod, which would work on the worst of the injuries. The others were in bad shape, but they had to prioritize.

Stinger was no stranger to quick battlefield fixes. Naaga was comfortable administering first aid and keeping pressure on things until help arrived. Even Hame was handy in patching up wounds.

This had taken all of them.

Champ and Balance both needed emergency maintenance. Champ was more straightforward, since he was an android. No software damage, just hardware. Champ had waved Stinger away immediately. “Go help the others,” he said gruffly. “I don’t like Kotarou’s breathing.”

Balance had been leaking some kind of mechanical fluid and Naaga had desperately tried to staunch the flow. “Naaga, stop,” Balance had said weakly. “I have replacement for this. It’s making a mess, but the others need help more.”

After they got Garou into the medical pod, Stinger held Kotarou close as the boy cried. “Aniki,” he was sobbing. “My chest hurts.”

“I know,” Stinger murmured. “Raptor will do a scan. We’ll get you meds. You’ll be okay.”

Kotarou had three cracked ribs, a sprained wrist and more bruises and cuts than Stinger ever wanted to see on the kid again. Garou was out of the pod by then, lying too still on a bed in the infirmary. Spada had waved Raptor towards Stinger and Kotarou. “Kotarou next,” he’d gasped. “He’s got cracked ribs. He needs that healed.”

Stinger promised Kotarou he’d be there when he got out of the pod. Once the pod closed, Raptor just whispered, “Stinger, your shirt.” He looked down. His jacket, shirt and scarf were covered in blood. He stared for a long moment, unable to really comprehend what he was seeing. Then he took off his Seiza Blaster, and stripped off his jacket, scarf and shirt. His undershirt had blood stains too, but not as badly as his other clothes.

“How long is he in the pod?” Stinger asked.

“Fifteen minutes or so.”

“I’ll be back.”

He strode quickly out of the infirmary, stopping at his room long enough to drop off his clothes and blaster. He went into Kotarou’s room and gathered his pajamas, monkey, and the afghan that Stinger had crocheted for him over the summer—shades of blue melting together. This gave him something to do, something concrete. He got back to the infirmary minutes before Kotarou got out of the pod. 

Helping Kotarou change into his pajamas and getting him settled in an infirmary bed did not take long. Stinger gave him appropriate pain medication. “These will make you go to sleep,” Stinger explained. “You need to sleep so your body can fully heal.”

Kotarou nodded, already looking sleepy. Stinger gently ran a hand through his hair, singing softly until the kid was completely asleep. He stayed seated on the edge of his bed for a while, just watching his even breathing. 

A message from Champ roused him.

_Raptor says everyone is stable. She needs to recharge and then she’ll help me with repairs. I do not want to see you down here. Find Naaga, take a shower and go to bed._

Stinger looked up. 

Spada was out of the pod and resting in an infirmary bed. Kotarou was dead asleep. Garou was too still, but a monitor softly beeped next to him, indicating that he was still alive, heart still beating. Raptor was nowhere to be seen anymore, but she was likely down in the maintenance bay with Champ and Balance. Which was probably also where Naaga was. Hame had fallen asleep with her head resting at the foot of Spada’s bed. He didn’t know where Shou Lonpou, Lucky or Tsurugi were. He’d lost track of them at some point.

He tucked in Kotarou, and stepped outside the infirmary.

Bringing him to now.

His blaster was in their room. No way to message Naaga.

Numb, he pushed himself off the wall and trudged to their room.

The room was dark when he got there. No Naaga. He was worried, but so tired. All he could think about was how tired he was—of all of this. Jark Matter, fighting, awfulness… He’d always believed in this fight, never wanted anyone else to suffer the way his village and his family had. He wanted Jark Matter gone so that people in small villages could live their lives in peace, without fearing a bloodthirsty intergalactic organization coming through and destroying everything they had built. But now… he was exhausted. This fight had taken everything from him, and was threatening to take everything else. He wanted to walk away, find some remote outer planet and stay there, ignoring the rest of the universe. How could he live if Naaga died? Or Kotarou? Or Champ?

Stumblingly slow, he sent Naaga a message, just saying he was in their room.

Then he stripped off his clothes, throwing everything with the laundry. He had no idea how he was getting that much blood out of his jacket and shirt. The scarf was ruined.

The hot shower spray woke him up a little. 

He scrubbed his skin until he was pink and almost raw. 

This was not a fight they could win.

They’d barely been able to open the gate.

Gods, Stinger had deliberately pushed the hallucinations out of his mind. The others saw equally terrible things, he knew. But he still shook. First, his brother had been standing there. Not the monster that Don Armage turned him into, but the older brother that he remembered and loved, who protected him. _You are so weak. You brought this on our people. You deserve to die last. I can’t believe that a weakling like you is related to me._ He then saw his entire village, burning and covered in blood, and he could only scream that this wasn’t him, wasn’t his fault. Stumbling across the broken and smoldering ruins, the dead began to look familiar. And he realized he was staring at the others. Jark Matter had killed them, all of them, because he was too weak to protect his village, his family.

Naaga had been in the debris of his old tent, too still, skin covered in soot and blood, throat slashed by an Indabee blade. His eyes were open, dead and unseeing. Stinger could still make out the necklace around his neck, the charm that he’d spent so much time painstakingly crafting. The silver ring on his right hand, crude craftsmanship lending charm, but also telling how quickly he’d made them. He’d collapsed next to Naaga’s body, harsh sobs coming out of him. He had no idea how he was going on without Naaga, without any of them.

The images reignited old fears. Maybe his brother had betrayed them because he was so weak? He could hear Naaga saying, “That’s ridiculous. You were a child. He had no right to expect you to behave like an adult.” There had always been something dark and twisted in his brother, he knew that now. But their village? They were no match for Jark Matter.

He finally got out of the shower and pulled on a pair of loose pants and one of Naaga’s t-shirts. He had a message from Raptor.

_Come to the infirmary and bring Naaga some clean clothes._

What the fuck? Heart hammering, Stinger grabbed the first pair of pants and shirt of Naaga’s he laid his hands on, and all but sprinted back down the hall to the infirmary. Raptor was standing outside, waiting for him.

“What happened?”

“We finally got Balance stabilized enough to run diagnostics, repaired the leaks and replaced the fluid. Balance went into low power mode, and Naaga realized he was covered in the mechanical fluid.” Raptor was speaking quickly, wringing her hands. “He had a panic attack, started hyperventilating. I got him to the infirmary and gave him a mild sedative, but he’ll be waking up soon.”

Stinger swore. 

He’d been so focused on how tired he was that he’d forgotten that Naaga would likely freak out about all of this, especially since Balance got so badly hurt. And he had no idea what hallucinations Naaga might have seen—everything had happened too quickly after Lucky breaking the illusion. 

He pushed past Raptor into the infirmary.

Naaga was on a far bed, away from Kotarou, Spada and Garou, all of whom were still asleep. He was sprawled, probably all Raptor had time for before the sedative knocked him out. And, gods, if Stinger had thought he was covered in blood, Naaga’s clothes were completely soaked through with the oily substance from Balance. The jackets were water resistant, but Stinger would need to replace the lining. The rest of Naaga’s clothes were beyond saving—they needed to go straight from him into the trash. Naaga was laying on his stomach, so Stinger was able to work off his jacket without waking him.

The rest…

He hurt all over and wanted to collapse, but he could get Naaga up. Using the strength he had left, he gently rolled Naaga over. “Naaga,” he said softly as he went. “Come on. We need to go change your clothes.” He paused. Naaga’s eyes were fluttering open. He was still mostly asleep, and Stinger wanted to use that to his advantage. He tugged Naaga into a sitting position, and then wrapped an arm around his waist, hauling him to his feet. Naaga went easily, most of his weight on Stinger. The bathroom wasn’t far. He shut the door behind them, and then sat Naaga on the closed toilet.

Naaga started to wake up more. “Just look at me,” Stinger said. “I’m going to take care of you. I need to get you into these clothes, then we can go back to our room and you can shower.” He quickly and efficiently stripped Naaga naked, throwing the clothes directly into the waste container in the bathroom. Naaga whimpered when he saw the oil still staining his skin a blue color.

“Shh,” Stinger soothed, as he helped him dress in the workout pants and shirt. “Come on,” he said softly, gathering Naaga’s jacket, shoes and blaster. He grabbed Naaga’s hand, threading their fingers together and squeezing tightly.

He led Naaga back to their room. Naaga was stumbling a little, still sleepy, but grabbed Stinger’s wrist with his free hand, completely tethering himself to him. As he woke up, Stinger could feel his shaking increase to the point that he was trembling violently. 

Bed. They needed to go to bed.

Shower and then bed.

In their room, Naaga just shook more. 

Bath, he corrected in his head. Bath and then bed.

He put Naaga’s jacket with their laundry, threw his shoes under the bed and put his blaster on his desk. He then led Naaga into the bathroom, sitting him in the same place as the infirmary. He started the bath water, the temperature just below scalding. While they waited for the tub to fill, Stinger got a washcloth damp and began to work on cleaning some of the oil from Naaga’s arms. They were mostly quiet, Naaga letting out a soft whimper every so often. His eyes were red, face dirty and streaked with tears. Stinger had looked like that before the shower. 

Leaving enough room in the tub for Stinger to get in too, he helped Naaga out of the clothes. Naaga just clung to Stinger’s shoulders, unable to get his hands to cooperate. “Stinger,” was all Naaga could get out, more tears spilling down his cheeks, looking desperate. 

“It’s okay. I’ll help you.”

He lowered Naaga into the tub, and then slipped off his own clothes, getting in the tub behind Naaga. He pulled him completely between his legs, and then grabbed the washcloth. 

As he soaped up the cloth and then began scrubbing Naaga, he remained quiet. He had nothing to say, no words to make this better. Naaga was sobbing softly.

The oil was being stubborn, but scrubbing at the spots gave him something to do, focus on. He didn’t have to think about the hallucinations or how fucked they were or anything. Just get Naaga clean. Erase all traces of the trauma from today.

Naaga wiped a hand over his eyes. “Stinger?” His voice was wavering, soft, and he was still hiccupping with tears.

“Naaga,” he replied softly.

“What was your dream about?”

Fuck. The only reason Naaga was asking about that was because he was shaken by his own hallucinations. The dreams were likely the reason Naaga panicked earlier. He put the washcloth aside for a moment, and wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, holding him close. He all but rested his chin on Naaga’s shoulder.

“My brother,” he said finally. “Telling me how everything was my fault.” He exhaled sharply. “Then I was wandering through our village, everything destroyed. And you all were in the ruins… gone.” He didn’t need to say more. Naaga would fill in the blanks. 

Naaga was quiet, but he rested an arm over Stinger’s and pressed back against him.

“Do you want to talk about yours?”

Again, Naaga was quiet. 

Stinger thought he might have fallen asleep.

But then, low and mournful, “I don’t think I am ever getting rid of Akenba.”

He hadn’t thought he’d be able to feel anything right now, but his heart broke a little at those words. “Naaga, baby,” he breathed. “That happened recently. You’ve been through so much. Of course everything feels fresh.”

A sob shuddered out of Naaga.

“She was controlling me, but… I knew it. I killed Balance, and she told me I wanted to.” He sniffed, “That I enjoyed it.” He was crying earnestly again, breathing shallow and erratic. “And then she made me kill you.”

“Come here,” Stinger whispered, nudging Naaga to turn around. Naaga went easily, wrapping both arms around Stinger. The bath water sloshed dangerously close to the edge of the tub. Naaga took a deep breath and then his hands were on Stinger’s neck, lips pressing against his. The kiss was rough, too much nipping, too many teeth, but Stinger understood the raw feeling, clawing against the world to feel something, anything. He responded to the kisses. Naaga adjusted his weight more solidly against Stinger. As Naaga’s legs spread, Stinger knew this was an invitation to surge up and press him against the other side of the tub. Make this unyielding, territorial, a reminder that they were still alive. 

He did part of that, wrapping an arm securely around Naaga’s waist, and lifting him, moving him against the other side, pressing him against the cool ceramic. He nipped at Naaga’s lips, drawing him into another long, breathless kiss. Naaga’s cheeks were wet, and he made a desperate noise into the kiss, hands on Stinger’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer. Somehow, none of the water sloshed onto the floor. One more bruising kiss and he pulled his lips away from Naaga.

Naaga looked dazed, upset about the kiss ending.

Stinger raised a hand, cupping Naaga’s cheek and running fingers through his hair. “You don’t want it like this,” he whispered. 

Naaga looked away, fresh tears welling up in his eyes.

“Naaga,” Stinger said, fingers on his chin, gently turning him to look at him. “We’re both exhausted. There’s no way this is happening right now.”

The tears spilled over.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”

Stinger’s throat felt tight. Gods, he was crying again. “Naaga,” he whispered.

“Look what one person did to five of us, and that was someone Jark Matter brainwashed.” Naaga sniffed hard, swallowing a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

Stinger held Naaga close as both of them cried. He knew what wanting to die felt like, he’d felt that more recently than he wanted to think about. But since Champ and his brother… those poison-fueled dreams had given him something he hadn’t thought about in a long time—a future. He wanted the house with quiet, peaceful mornings, and sunlight. But they’d barely walked away from just breaking a barrier and opening a gate to get to the heart of the Jark Matter home world. He could not imagine what awaited them on that planet. 

And there the thought was again—they could walk away.

He knew that was impossible. No matter where they went, Jark Matter had plastered their pictures everywhere, offering a hefty reward for them. Only a matter of time before someone turned them in, sent Jark Matter down on them, no matter how far out or well hidden. That was not a quiet, peaceful life, always looking over their shoulders. 

“I don’t either,” he whispered.

There was nothing else to say.

He released Naaga long enough to grab the washcloth again. They were silent as he scrubbed Naaga thoroughly. Usually, when he decided to wash Naaga, he got a withering look or at least a protest about the action (even if Naaga really wanted him to.) But Naaga was silent, just moving at his quiet requests, only wincing a little when he got to sensitive areas. (The oil had spread everywhere—everywhere.) Finally, he washed Naaga’s hair, and Naaga seemed to rouse himself enough to wash his face. He was clean and ready to get out of the water.

Getting out of the tub first, he dried off quickly and wrapped Naaga in a towel as he stepped out of the tub. He padded out into the bedroom and grabbed clean pajamas for Naaga, his only thoughts about how tired he was and how much he hated everything that had happened today. He wanted to keep Naaga close, just wrap him in his arms, let him cry and rage. He wanted to promise that everything would be okay, they’d get through this too. The Kyuutamas chose them, and that meant they were strong enough to defeat Jark Matter. The Kyuutamas had chosen them now, meaning there was something about this time that meant Jark Matter was ready to fall. But none of that mattered. None of that would matter if they couldn’t get to the planet.

He couldn’t promise anything, because he had no idea. And that terrified him.

Naaga had dried off, and dressed in the clothes Stinger handed him. He’d gotten the oil on the clothes he was wearing, so he found himself clean clothes. With their laundry and towels hung up, Stinger pulled back the covers on their bed.

When he looked up, Naaga was hesitating, arms wrapped around his stomach. A tear rolled down his cheek. Gods, he should have been exhausted, but he was staring at their bed with a slightly scared expression.

“What’s wrong?” Stinger asked softly.

“I’m scared.”

“Naaga, baby,” he breathed, stepping into his space and pulling him close. “I am too, but we’re both exhausted and need to sleep.”

“I don’t want to dream.”

_About Akenba._ He didn’t need to say the other part. Stinger knew. “Okay,” he relented. “Okay. I just need some coffee or caffeine or something, and we can stay up.” Besides, he’d passed tired a long time ago, and was in that strange place where he was almost too tired to sleep.

Then Naaga’s stomach growled slightly.

They hadn’t eaten since morning. “And you need food,” he added. He reached to the footlocker at the end of the bed, and handed Naaga his sweater. He grabbed his own sweater and slippers. Naaga put on his sweater and found his own slippers. Stinger took Naaga’s hand and led him down the eerily silent and darkened hallways to the galley.

The galley was empty. Just as well. Stinger was too tired to deal with the others’ emotions, and Naaga was in desperate need of quiet. He got out the things to make grilled cheese—even when Naaga swore he wasn’t hungry or felt sick, he’d always eat grilled cheese. That had become Stinger’s go-to when Naaga was upset. He got out some of the turkey too. Add more protein to the sandwiches. Naaga put on a pot of coffee and started brewing some tea as Stinger grilled the first two sandwiches. Both of which he slipped onto Naaga’s plate.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Naaga asked softly.

He shrugged as he sipped some coffee. He really wasn’t sure how he felt. 

“I can’t eat this much.”

Stinger raised an eyebrow. “I bet you can.”

And, yeah, he could. He inhaled the first sandwich, and then ate the second one slower.

“Are you guys cooking?”

They both looked up. Hame had wandered into the galley. She was wearing her pajamas now, hair damp, and look bleary-eyed. 

Stinger stood up. “You want a grilled cheese sandwich?” She nodded eagerly. “Ham or turkey?” Even though he knew she wanted ham, which she confirmed. Using ninpou and other ninja skills caused Hame to burn more calories than normal, meaning she usually inhaled any food set in front of her. He put together two sandwiches and got them in the still hot skillet.

Then Naaga was up again, getting vegetables out of the fridge.

“Naaga…” he started, but then saw what he had gotten. Baby spinach, a cucumber, a tomato, olives, red onion, feta, cold grilled chicken—he was making a Greek salad. Which was something that Stinger really liked, and often added chicken for more sustenance. He didn’t say that he wasn’t sure he was hungry, because even though Naaga’s hair was covering his face as he leaned over the counter, Stinger could see he was crying again.

Instead, he kissed Naaga’s cheek. “Thank you,” he whispered.

“Holy moly!”

Tsurugi marched into the room, complaining about being unable to find Lucky.

Stinger didn’t bother to tell him that Lucky was in shock. He pointed to the skillet with the spatula. “Want one?” he asked mildly.

“Yes,” was the reply as he sat at the table. He didn’t ask, because Tsurugi would also want ham. Four more sandwiches on the table for Hame and Tsurugi, and Naaga had finished the salad, so he sat down to eat with them.

No one was really talking, but all the food was disappearing. After a few bites of the salad, Stinger pulled Naaga close and kissed his cheek again. Gods, this was really good.

“Spada!” 

The outburst came from Hame, and they all turned towards the door. Spada had just walked into the galley, and was holding Kotarou’s hand. Kotarou was holding his monkey and trailing the afghan behind him as he walked. Upon seeing Stinger, Kotarou peeled away from Spada and went as fast as he could. He scrambled into Stinger’s lap, wrapping both arms around his middle, squishing the monkey between them and pooling the afghan on the floor under the chair. Spada squeezed Hame’s shoulder as he joined them at the table.

“Pain meds wore off,” he explained. “I brought the next doses, but Kotarou was hungry. Figured he should eat before going back to bed.”

Stinger was about to move Kotarou to get up, but Naaga kissed his temple and stood up. “I’ll make them,” he said softly. Spada would want turkey, and Kotarou wanted just cheese, no meat. But Naaga already knew that. And Stinger wasn’t done with his own food. He adjusted Kotarou to one leg (extracting the monkey so Kotarou could hold it properly) and wrapped an arm around his middle to hold him steady. That freed up his other arm to continue eating.

“Raptor says Garou is stable,” Spada was telling them. “She also said Balance and Champ are in low power mode, but should be up and about soon.”

Naaga had the sandwiches to them quickly. He got tea for Spada and a glass of milk for Kotarou. Spada was mostly trying to reassure Hame that he was okay. Tsurugi was occasionally butting in with something about legends, but he still looked dark and stormy. Stinger was too tired to spend much time brooding. Kotarou was eating his sandwiches quickly, and Stinger pushed the afghan out from under the chair so Kotarou didn’t get crumbs in it while he ate.

After everyone was done eating and Naaga and Hame (aided clumsily by Tsurugi) put all the dishes in the cleaner, Kotarou looked up at him. “Aniki, can we all sleep in the same room?” His eyes were wide and earnest.

“Sure,” he said softly. “We can get some air mattresses and sleep in here.”

“Awesome!” Hame said, the first bit of enthusiasm from her all night. “I’ll go get the air mattresses and sleeping bags and some pillows.” She turned to Tsurugi. “You help me.” And she was gone, Tsurugi following her like he wasn’t sure what just happened.

Kotarou yawned, leaning back against him. He’d taken his second dose of painkillers when he was done eating, so he’d likely be asleep any moment, long before they got back. He looked at Naaga and motioned to the afghan. Naaga nodded and stood up, grabbing the afghan. Kotarou nodded off, breathing deeply. Careful of his freshly healed ribs, Stinger picked him up, and Naaga grabbed the monkey before it fell to the floor. Naaga got one of the throw pillows someone (Raptor) had put around the room, and they settled Kotarou on a small couch facing an open area in the room. He was covered with his afghan and clutching his monkey, fast asleep.

“You two are good at that.”

They looked at Spada and then each other.

“I’ve just never seen you guys tag team to take care of Kotarou before,” he clarified. “You’re really good at it.”

Was Spada trying to say they’d be good parents?

He didn’t have to decipher the statement, because Hame and Tsurugi got back with the air mattresses. Kotarou slept through the commotion of inflating the mattress, unrolling the sleeping bags and people settling down to sleep. Stinger noticed that Hame pulled her air mattress as close to Spada as she could (and still feel it was socially acceptable.) Tsurugi was near the edge of the open area. Stinger put himself and Naaga on the same mattress, in front of the couch where Kotarou was. (He didn’t want the kid to worry if he woke up and didn’t see them immediately.)

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to sleep, but with the breathing of the others, and Naaga’s weight against him, warm and reassuring, he fell asleep in minutes.

\----------------

“You’re going to wake them up!”

“I thought you wanted to wake them up so they could be happy you’re back?”

“Well, that was before I saw how tired they all were.” A pause and then, “Besides, I’m not the one making mooing noises.”

“I’m not the one being noisy and talking.”

“Whatever, find a place to perch.”

Stinger opened his eyes in the low light. He inhaled sleepily, watching as two shapes entered the galley. The low light was reflecting off Balance, and he assumed the hulking shape was Champ trying to move quietly (which Champ couldn’t do if his life depended on it.) So they were up and moving and decided to join this weirdness.

Naaga was sleeping partially on top of him, and also woke up to the noise. He rubbed his eyes and then focused on the two newcomers. “Balance?” he asked, voice hoarse.

“Aw, crap. Naaga, go back to sleep.”

“Balance!” 

Stinger was impressed with how gracefully Naaga extracted himself and got up, hardly jostling Stinger at all, and was across the room in a few steps, hugging Balance. Naaga didn’t initiate hugs or embraces, unless they were with Stinger, so this, in and of itself, was huge. Balance being as hurt as he was upset Naaga, to put things mildly, but his relief was palpable at seeing Balance up and about. 

Balance hugged Naaga back, and then patted his back when he didn’t let go after a few seconds. “Naaga, I’m fine,” he was saying. “You need rest.” He gave Champ a withering look. “See what you did? You woke up Naaga!”

Stinger sat up. He nodded at Champ. “Partner.”

Champ walked over to him and patted his head, before sitting in an armchair next to Kotarou’s couch. “Partner,” he echoed.

“You’re okay?”

Champ waved away the concern. “Nothing some new wiring and parts couldn’t fix.”

“Aniki?” Kotarou was up.

“Time for more pain meds.” And Spada.

“Geez, Champ,” Balance whined. “You woke up everyone!”

Champ just huffed a moo, ignoring Balance.

Naaga released Balance, finally. He was wiping at his eyes. Gods. Stinger stood up and crossed the room to him, kissing his cheek and getting an arm around his waist. Naaga leaned back against him. “I’ll make some tea,” Naaga said, voice shaky.

“There’s some cocoa in the pantry you can make for Kotarou,” Spada said. 

Stinger ruffled Kotarou’s hair as he started to follow Naaga to the kitchen. “Where?” he asked.

“On my shelf.”

He nodded. He and Spada had an understanding—Stinger kept things that were not for general use, things he’d purchased or were special for him, Naaga or Kotarou, on one upper shelf in the pantry. Spada did the same on an opposing shelf. Neither of them went on each other’s shelves, and the others knew those shelves did not have things they could use. 

Balance tapped Stinger’s shoulder before he followed Naaga. “Tell the truth. Did you make everything that Naaga is wearing?”

Stinger glanced to Naaga. He was wearing his sweater (that Stinger knitted), the black tunic shirt (that he made), and flannel plaid pajama pants. Yeah, he’d made those too. (The flannel was navy blue with weird orange and gray in the pattern. Part of the fabric he’d picked up. He figured Naaga would like the pattern and his pajama pants were getting worn.) “I didn’t make the slippers,” he said finally, walking into the kitchen.

“Is that how you mark your territory?” Balance faux-whispered. 

“Shut-up,” Stinger shot back.

Naaga put on the kettle for tea, while Stinger found the cocoa in the pantry. Hame and Tsurugi were up at that point. Champ and Balance had to reassure everyone they were fine, which then led into Balance entertaining everyone with more BN Thieves stories. (Stinger glanced to Naaga to confirm an especially wild one, and he just shrugged, saying Balance was being dramatic but the story was essentially true.)

Stinger had some sweet roll dough in the fridge, so he decided to throw those in the oven. Only take a few minutes to cook.

Soon, everyone had tea (and Kotarou had cocoa) and hot sweet rolls.

“Stinger,” Spada said as he bit into one. “You have to tell me how to make these. They are delicious.”

Stinger shrugged. He might tell Spada. Maybe.

He and Naaga were sitting on their air mattress. Kotarou had crawled into his lap again. Champ and Balance were on the couch behind them.

Hame sighed into her tea. “I know we’re still tired,” she said. “But today was awful.” She looked around the room at them. “I don’t know how we’re going to win.” Spada wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Stinger looked around the room. Naaga was pressed close against his side. Kotarou was in his lap, munching a sweet roll and getting crumbs in their sleeping bag (and Stinger wasn’t fussing at him about it.) Hame and Spada were sitting on Hame’s air mattress. Hame looked miserable and Spada was trying to comfort her. Tsurugi was sitting on the floor near them, arms on his knees as he clutched a mug of tea. Balance was close enough to pat Naaga’s head. Champ just mooed softly.

For the first time all evening, all day, he felt a little hopeful.

He cared about all these people—even the ones that got on his last nerve. Fucking hell, he’d come to consider all of them friends. They’d seen him at his worst—depressed over his brother, suicidal, desperately clawing at a way to fix things and making everything so much worse. Naaga and Kotarou believed in him—Naaga got stabbed. Kotarou did something dangerous and reckless to give him the antidote. Champ fucking died for him. Lucky led the crew in not giving up on him. Hell, Tsurugi picked up that he knew a lot about handcrafts and could sew and asked him to make Lucky’s new jacket. Which, for him, was a polite way of acknowledging the craftsmanship Stinger was capable of. Spada looked out for him and Naaga, gently pushing them to new things (like cooking for everyone.) Even Hame’s enthusiasm and Balance’s sarcasm (and thinly veiled insults hurled his way) had become normal, endearing, something he’d come to expect.

For fuck’s sake, they’d become one giant family.

“I don’t know either,” Stinger replied softly. “But if anyone can figure this out, it’s this bunch of twelve dumb fucking idiots.”

Kotarou’s mouth opened in protest. “How come you can swear and I can’t?”

“I’m older than you.”

Before Kotarou could protest again, Tsurugi said, “We are legendary.” He paused. “And the Kyuutamas chose you all, now. And you found me, now. That means something.” He shook his head. “We have a lot of unknowns, and Lucky’s father throws a wrench in things. But if we can find a way around him, we know the others waiting for us have their weaknesses.” He shrugged. “We’ve defeated Don Armage before, we can do it again.”

Stinger pulled Naaga close, kissing him soundly, maybe a little too long in front of the others. Naaga looked a little dazed when they pulled apart. (Kotarou was making a face about the kissing, because he was still at an age where kissing was gross.)

“Jark Matter took everything from me once,” Stinger said softly. He glanced around the room to the others. “I’m not going to let them do it again.”

Naaga nodded. “We’ve built too much.” His hand gently cupped Stinger’s cheek. “We’re not going to lose each other.”

“Moo,” Champ huffed. He ruffled Stinger’s hair. “I’m with this dumb scorpion man. Besides, I still need to defeat Doctor Anton.”

“Can’t break up the BN Thieves!” Balance added.

“I’m with Aniki,” was all Kotarou said.

Hame sniffed a little. But then she smiled. “You’re right. We can.” She paused and then, “Awesome!”

They were quiet for a while as they ate the sweet rolls and drank tea.

This battle would be terrible, but they had to figure out a way to come out alive.

Stinger meant what he said—he’d had everything taken from him once. He’d been alone and angry and desperate. Now, he was with Naaga, and he knew what he wanted in their future. Hell, they could get married now if they wanted. Both of them were ready.

Fuck Jark Matter.

They had to do something. The universe didn’t deserve this shit.

Kotarou had finished his cocoa and taken his pain meds. He was now yawning as he leaned back against Stinger’s chest. Naaga plucked the mug out of Kotarou’s hands, and stood up. Stinger kissed the top of Kotarou’s head and shifted him to pick him up. Naaga shooed Balance and Champ off the couch. Champ settled in the armchair next to the couch. Balance found another couch. They got Kotarou settled on the couch with his monkey and afghan, and he was asleep once more.

Stinger helped Naaga gather the mugs and napkins, putting everything in the cleaner.

“Carina.”

He looked at Naaga, who’d said the word softly. “What?”

“Carina,” he repeated. Naaga shrugged a little, smile a little sad, but a little more determined. “You said that in your dreams from before we had a daughter. I think I’d like that.” A pause and more softly, “You didn’t know her name, but I think we should call her Carina.”

His eyes burned. He kissed Naaga soundly. “That’s a pretty name. I like it.”

Everyone else had gone back to bed.

As he settled back to sleep, arms wrapped around Naaga, their legs tangled together, he realized he actually loved all these people. They were worth fighting for. 

So was the rest of the universe.

\------------------

The next morning, after breakfast (for which Stinger made piles of scrambled eggs, sausages and toast), he fixed his jacket and Naaga’s in a maintenance bay. Naaga helped him rip out of the lining of both jackets, clean them, and then put in new lining.

Balance felt bad, so he was helping. However, Balance’s definition of helping was sitting around and chattering about inane things. (Heists he and Naaga had pulled, new Hoshi Minato songs, some Circuit show he really liked, and, oddly, types of dark chocolate.)

He showed Naaga how to start putting the lining back in, and then had Naaga work on his jacket.

“Did Stinger make you that shirt too?”

Naaga looked down at the gray flannel shirt he was wearing. “Yes.”

Balance turned to him. “Do you only make Naaga clothes?”

“No,” he said, concentrating on the jacket. “I make Kotarou clothes. And myself.”

“Can you make me clothes?”

Stinger looked up sharply. “Balance, you don’t wear clothes.”

Naaga was smiling a little as he worked on Stinger’s jacket.

Balance being irritating was surprisingly endearing. 

Stinger was still scared to the core, but they had to fight. He wasn’t losing Naaga.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! I know episode 42 just aired (but has not made it to my sources, so no watching for me yet), but please? Let me have my holiday fluff chapter! (We may be putting in a slightly AU pause for some FLUFF.) We shall see.
> 
> But good grief, the nightmares. I know they only showed Lucky's and Tsurugi's, but Stinger was screaming something like, "It wasn't me," and Naaga was just yelling, "Balance!" Srsly. The angst level.
> 
> Continuing giant THANK YOU to all my readers! You guys are the best, and I am glad to have brought some of you into this ship! Thank you for reading, commenting, kudos-ing and generally being awesome! Honestly, I couldn't do it without you! YAY! Let me know you're out there once in a while! (Also feel free to hit me up here or on tumblr with any requests for remaining series chapters or the inevitable epilogue.) :D Everyone have a fabulous week (I'm on vacation from work!) and stay tuned!


	27. All I Ever Wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seemed like everyone was excitedly talking about some tradition or other, figuring out how to recreate the event here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you ready for holiday fluff? Taking some liberties with the timeline here. This is set after most of the action in episode 42 (so some minor spoilers therein.) However, I am inserting a pause before everyone grabs their stuff and takes off again for what will be the action in episode 43. (Like they take some time to regroup after 42.) Enjoy!

**27/ All I Ever Wanted**   
_All that matters now is where I go from here…_

The night was like any other, he supposed. With the discovery on Planet Southern Cross and Naaga’s idea to use the Black Hole Kyuutama, they needed time. They’d retreated to a nearby system, monitoring from a distance and making sure that Hell’s Gate was remaining open. (They’d destroyed that and the force field, obliterated them to pieces, so they were not worried about them mounting that defense again.) Given the break, in spite of everything that had happened and was going to happen, and with a myriad of winter holidays coming up, spirits had been high at dinner. Seemed like everyone was excitedly talking about some tradition or other, figuring out how to recreate the event here. (No one, save for maybe Lucky, was in that big a hurry for Balance and Naaga to finish the black hole machine.)

Everyone except Stinger and Naaga.

Naaga was simply because the Ophiuchus System did not celebrate holidays and did not even acknowledge birthdays as a day to celebrate. He listened eagerly to the traditions from the others, and Stinger watched him stop himself from asking follow-up questions about the meaning behind the traditions. He wanted to understand the significance and was often not satisfied with ‘because it’s fun’ or ‘because my family has always done it.’ Finally, Spada, of all people, had told Naaga, “You don’t always need the origin behind something to enjoy and appreciate it.” Which then put a damper on Naaga’s questions. Stinger could tell that frustrated Naaga, but he kept things to himself and just stopped asking the questions he wanted to.

The night after that incident, Naaga hadn’t really wanted to talk. He just wanted Stinger to press him into the mattress and make him forget his name. Which he did. Afterwards, he had just snuggled close to Stinger, wide awake and not talking. 

Maybe that was why Stinger started telling Naaga pieces of the traditions from his home planet. Celebrations started on the winter solstice, but continued through December 25. Honestly, a lot of what his people did seemed similar to Hame, Spada, Lucky or even Kotarou and Tsurugi. They just used their resources in the desert. So no decorated trees, but still some decorations. Gift giving, definitely. Special desserts and dinners. New Year’s was also a big deal for them. 

Naaga was sitting on the floor next to their bed. Stinger was sitting on the edge of the bed, Naaga between his knees. Naaga’s back was to him, and he was using a small towel to dry Naaga’s hair. (He’d just gotten out of the shower.) 

“Like the sweet rolls you make with dinner?”

“Yes,” Stinger replied, continuing to run the towel over his hair. “Just we add things to them. I make them plain.”

“The cinnamon sounds good.”

“My caretaker used to save things like cinnamon and sugar, just for the holidays.” Naaga’s hair was on the dry side of damp now. He ran his fingers through the silky, silver strands for a moment before continuing with drying his hair. “She used to make these orange rolls with dark chocolate that were amazing.”

“Do you know how to make them?”

“I could come up with an approximation.”

Naaga was quiet, taking in the information. Then he asked, “You said you all gave gifts?”

“Yeah. Nothing elaborate like Kotarou and Tsurugi talk about. We’d do small gifts to the people close to us starting on the solstice—practical stuff, things we needed. Socks, laces, knives.” He paused, exhaling as he remembered. “I got a water bottle with a filter one time. That was pretty useful out in the desert.” Another pause, “And we’d give a few more, bigger gifts on December 25.”

“What kind of things?”

“We made everything, so quilts, afghans, clothes. Sometimes equipment we needed. Very rarely a book or paper or something impractical that we just wanted.”

“I don’t think I would like the kind of gifts Kotarou and Tsurugi talk about—those seem… unnecessary.” Naaga ran a hand down his calf, hand resting on his ankle. “I like the gifts you talk about. Those seem much better.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of Naaga’s head. Naaga’s hair was pretty much dry, so he put aside the towel and grabbed the comb on the bed. Only a few swipes and Naaga’s hair was untangled and ready to go—his hair really was incredibly silky and pretty much just fell into place. Unlike Stinger, who often looked like he’d been running through strong winds when he woke up. He set aside the comb, in favor of just running his fingers through Naaga’s hair, gently massaging his scalp. Naaga leaned into his touch, making a pleased noise.

“Would you all do anything else?” Naaga asked softly.

“Hmm, we had some traditional clothing—scarves, mostly. We sang, lit candles for people that had passed during the year.”

As he talked, almost without realizing what he was doing, he separated part of Naaga’s hair at his temple and began braiding the hair. He had no idea why, but his people had always called this a pineapple braid. (Not that pineapple was ever a fruit in their lives, even canned.) Naaga’s hair was fine enough that he’d need to secure the end of the braid if he wanted the hair to stay in place, so when he was done, he just slipped his fingers through the hair, undoing the braid little by little. Then he started again. The motion was familiar and repetitive, and he hadn’t thought he’d still remember how to do this. Maybe muscle memory was stronger than he thought. 

At some point, he switched from talking to singing.

As he finished the braid a third time, he realized that Naaga was resting his head on his opposing knee, hand around his ankle, relaxed and likely half-asleep against him. 

“Naaga?” he asked softly.

“You can keep doing that,” was the reply. “It feels good.”

He started the process of taking the braid out. “I don’t have anything to secure the end, and your hair is fine enough that it needs to be secured.”

“What is it?”

“Pineapple braid.” He couldn’t see Naaga’s face, but he made a questioning noise. He shrugged. “We’d do this on holidays, ceremonies. It was traditional for warriors to have braids in their hair.” He paused, “I can also do fishtail braids, and I can invert this so it’s going over and not under. But it’s been a while since I’ve done this. Might take a few tries before I get it really neat.”

“Can you teach me?”

“You’re going to need someone with much longer hair to learn initially.”

“Hame will let me practice on her.”

“I bet she would.”

He finished taking out the braid and ran his fingers through Naaga’s hair to smooth the strands back down. Naaga turned to face him, head still leaning against his knee. “I really like the traditions you told me about,” he said softly. “I think we should do those things this year.”

“If you want to.”

“I do.” Naaga reached up, fingers gently tracing his cheekbone. “A lot of important things to you were left on your home planet, weren’t they?”

“Jark Matter destroyed a lot of the places they invaded. I doubt anything is left. Besides,” he continued, reaching out to cup Naaga’s face. “Things aren’t really gone if we continue doing them. We just need to get a few things and we’ll be ready for the holidays this year.”

Naaga nodded, expression unreadable. He moved up to his knees and pressed a kiss to Stinger’s lips. Stinger responded, hanging on, forever awed that he had someone this close to him, someone who genuinely wanted to be around him. 

“Come on,” he said when they broke apart. “Let’s go to bed. Raptor wants me to get up early tomorrow and replace sensors in a bunch of the doors.”

As they settled into bed and Stinger pulled Naaga into his arms, he thought that everything would be okay. He and Naaga could do their own things, maybe include Kotarou, Champ and Balance. The others would have their parties and big celebrations, but the two of them could do something meaningful to them. 

\------------------

Stinger had no idea why he was reacting so badly to Naaga and Balance going on a supply mission for a few days—they need specialized parts for the black hole machine. The winter solstice was in a week. They’d be back by then. This was a low risk mission, scope out several planets, identify and obtain the supplies, report back. Was it because they’d actually made plans? Instead of Stinger’s usual plan for the holidays, which for the last few years had been to pretend that they didn’t exist at all and everyone else was crazy.

The day before, he’d known, objectively, that he needed to take a deep breath, see Naaga off without being dramatic, and check in with him every so often until he got back. Not like they hadn’t been apart before. Just be cool and aloof, like always.

That plan went really well, because the night before, he did the opposite.

Some of the planets they were going to were cold this time of year. Naaga did not do all that well in the cold—he got colder way faster than Stinger, at any rate. Stinger had finished Naaga’s scarf a while ago, and finished his hat earlier in the month. (Kotarou said the style of knitted hat was a trapper hat. All Stinger really knew was that he’d knitted a hat with ear flaps.) He’d still been working on the mittens, which he’d ended up designing in a such a way that they were fussier to make than the hat and scarf. The mittens had a base of fingerless gloves—enough to cover his wrist and palm up to his fingers, with a separate thumb hole. He was knitting a part to go over his fingers and button closed—making the fingerless gloves into mittens. Naaga would like that better, as he was not a fan of full-on gloves.

Stinger was almost done with the knitting, and then just needed to assemble the mittens. Should have taken him an hour, maybe two, to finish the project. But the day had been full of non-stop maintenance and work with no down time. After dinner, Raptor had wanted his opinion on some of the antidotes she was trying to stockpile. He didn’t have time to get to the project until he got back to their room. 

And, yeah, he should have anticipated Naaga wanting sex, as they were about to be apart for a few days. Not like he was saying no to that invitation. Ever.

Which left him with Naaga dead asleep, and him sitting next to him in bed, dimmest flashlight he could find on, while he fucking finished these mittens. At least this had been one of the times they washed up more thoroughly and put on pajamas before going to bed. (Next week, Stinger was just planning on fucking Naaga into the mattress every night and falling asleep naked with him.)

He’d had too much caffeine during the day and at dinner, more than he usually had, so he was wide awake and his hands were shaking slightly. (Which was not helping his productivity.) The chopsticks he was using were cheap, disposable, a little flimsy, but he hoped they’d last long enough to finish this.

“Stinger?”

He put down the mitten he was working on, and reached out to stroke Naaga’s hair for a moment. “Go back to sleep,” he whispered.

But this was Naaga, and instead, he shifted up on one arm. “What are you doing?”

He rubbed his eye, before picking up the mitten. “Finishing something I promised you.”

“Stinger—”

“Just let me finish this. Please?”

“Stinger.” Naaga sat up. His fingers were on Stinger’s chin, turning him gently to face him. “Have you been getting up after I’m asleep and working on things like this?”

“No,” he replied a little too quickly, and then took a deep breath, trying to calm down, even though his heart was racing. (Probably because Naaga was about to be gone and he was anxious. But really, mostly the caffeine.) “Not normally. Just last night and tonight.”

“Stinger.”

“Naaga, please, this is important to me.”

But then the shaking from the caffeine and the amount of pressure he was putting himself under finally caused the chopstick to break. He swore creatively, making sure the broken stick would hold all the stitches and he wouldn’t have to rip anything out. Luckily, he’d finished the knitting on the other mitten. Just one mitten left and only a handful of rows.

Naaga frowned as he got up.

“We’ve got more of these in the galley,” he said softly. “I’ll be right back.”

Naaga pushed the covers off himself and got out of bed as well. “I’ll go with you.”

“Naaga—”

“Stinger, you’re shaking. I’ll make you some tea. How much coffee did you have today?”

“Too damn much.”

Naaga rounded the bed and gently cupped his face. “Stinger, just breath. It’s okay. I’ll stay up with you.” He looked at him searchingly. “What’s bothering you?”

He covered one of Naaga’s hands with his own. “I don’t know,” he said and exhaled slowly. But he did know. He knew too well. They’d almost died getting to Planet Southern Cross and their latest plan, as much as it was all they had, could backfire. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want any of them to die. He wanted Jark Matter gone so they could live the rest of their lives in peace.

Naaga reached down and took his hand, and ended up being the one to lead them down the hall to the galley. Only the emergency lights were on, giving the halls an eerie orange glow. They didn’t turn on the overhead lights in the galley. Naaga quickly put on the electric kettle for hot water, and Stinger located another pair of chopsticks in a drawer. These ones were clearly from a slightly better restaurant, and should last him enough to finish up the knitting on the last mitten. The water boiled quickly and Naaga added some of the soothing nighttime tea. 

Back in their room, Naaga turned on the lamp on the nightstand and sat up against the headboard. He had his datapad out and from the movements he was making, he was drawing something. Stinger quickly switched over to the unbroken chopstick. Naaga looked up with a slight smile.

“You know,” he said softly. “They make metal ones of those. They’d probably last longer than your chopsticks.”

Stinger gave him a withering look as he quickly ticked through the final rows. 

“I know,” Naaga continued, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Knowing that just makes you stick to your original plan even more.”

“Are you accusing me of being stubborn?” At Naaga’s mild, noncommittal expression, he muttered, “You should look in a mirror sometime.”

“Drink your tea,” Naaga responded.

Stinger took a sip of the tea—fruity, soothing, warm. Naaga also really liked chamomile tea, but Stinger couldn’t get used to the taste (along with too many sad memories around the flower.) Stinger set down the tea and finished up the knitting. He got out the thin yarn, needle and button he was using to put the pieces together. He finished putting one together, but stopped at the button.

“Naaga, try this on and make sure it’s going to work.”

Naaga put down the datapad, and Stinger could see what he’d been drawing—an eerily realistic winter landscape, with another open file Stinger could see the corner of that appeared to be more of his cartoons. He put on the mitten that Stinger handed to him. “It’s really good,” he said softly. Stinger closed the mitten part, and eyed where he’d left the button hole. Damn, he was good. Everything lined up.

Naaga took off the mitten and he put the button on that mitten, and then finished the other. Naaga didn’t pick up his datapad again—just watched Stinger work. He handed the completed mittens to Naaga, who smiled softly at him as he accepted them. He quickly put all his supplies away into a box, which then went into the large bottom drawer of his desk. Naaga saved his work and shut down his datapad, putting the device to charge on his desk.

Tea gone, they finally pulled back the blankets to go to sleep.

“You’re still shaking from the caffeine.”

“I know.”

“Will you be able to sleep at all?”

“Probably not.”

“Stinger, you have to sleep for a few hours.” He walked to the drawer that held the first aid kit. “Will you please take a sleep aid?”

“Naaga, I hate the way those make me feel.”

“Just half of a mild one. Please?”

“Fine.”

He took the pill half that Naaga offered and wash it down with some water. Even settled back into bed and with the sleep aid, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to fall asleep. But he did, pressed against Naaga’s back, arm and tail around his waist.

That morning, he felt groggy when he heard the alarm go off, and Naaga was actually out of bed before him, getting ready. “I don’t want to get up,” he complained against the pillow.

Well, if he’d actually gotten up on time, they could have picked up breakfast and eaten somewhere together, away from the others. Since he’d spent the last two nights essentially trashing any semblance of a sleep schedule he’d had and since he’d taken too long to get out of bed, they had no choice but to go down to the galley and eat with everyone else. Naaga gave him a bowl of oatmeal with apples and cinnamon, three pieces of bacon and a glass of water. He didn’t have to say it, but Stinger got the hint loud and clear—no more caffeine until he straightened out his sleep cycles.

Now, he was standing in the Voyager Bay, hands on Naaga’s shoulders, just trying to calm the fuck down.

“Stinger,” Naaga was saying. “We’ll be fine. Balance has scanned all these places—no signs of Jark Matter. The weather patterns are normal. We’ll check in with Raptor every hour, and I will call you as many times a day as I can.”

“I know, I know. I just—” But he didn’t even know what.

“We’ll be back by the twenty-first.”

“Just… be careful.”

Naaga closed the small distance between them, kissing him softly. “We will. I love you,” he murmured against his lips.

“I love you too.”

Balance made a throat-clearing noise, which was absurd because Balance didn’t even have a throat to clear. So Stinger didn’t start hysterically laughing about that part and ending up in the infirmary until he got it together, he just kissed Naaga again, hanging on for longer and throwing a little tongue in there. Balance could deal with it.

Naaga looked a little dazed when they parted.

“Promise me you’ll sleep for a few hours this morning.”

Stinger nodded.

And then he was in Hebitsukai Voyager and they were gone.

Stinger stood in the Voyager Bay long after they left.

Why did he feel so damn lonely?

\------------------

Two days later, Stinger was on a couch in the rec room, trying to comb through some Rebellion reports when Kotarou slunk in, clutching his datapad to his chest. Normally, that was Kotarou’s guilty walk, meaning he’d done something—or broken something—he shouldn’t have. But this was a little off. Kotarou didn’t seem guilty, just shy and hesitant. 

“What’s wrong?” Stinger asked without looking up.

“I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Cookies.”

Stinger put down his datapad and looked at Kotarou. “Seems like something you should ask Spada to help you with.”

Kotarou wrinkled his nose and looked down. “No. All his cookies are fancy. He won’t want to make these.”

“What are they?”

Kotarou handed Stinger his datapad and he looked at the recipe. Which wasn’t a recipe that Stinger was used to seeing, more like something from his home planet. Clearly written down by someone. But easy enough. The cookies were fairly simple and not all that sweet.

“These are easy. Spada would definitely help you.”

“But I decorate them after they’re baked.”

And then Stinger saw Kotarou’s dilemma. Spada, as good-intentioned as he was, had trouble letting people help with anything that involved decorating (a cake, cookies) or building their own (one too many baked potato nights gone awry.) He wanted things perfect or he wanted what he perceived as the correct balance of flavors, and had no idea why someone (Kotarou) would want just cheese and barbeque sauce on their baked potato. Spada would, unintentionally, get overbearing and try to take over this whole cookie project.

“Okay. I’ll help.”

Kotarou had a big grin as he cheered and then hugged Stinger. “I used to make these with my mom. I’m really glad we’re making them together.”

Shit. Stinger ruffled Kotarou’s hair. “Make a list of what we need. There’s a nearby planet that’s Rebellion-controlled where we can shop.”

Never mind that Stinger would rather fight death worms than go shopping, but Kotarou seemed really excited and this was clearly important to him. So he would just suck it up, and do something that would make the kid happy. Gods only knew, his brother hadn’t even bothered to do that much at the end. Who knew what was going to happen? And, seriously, this was just cookies. He could handle cookies.

And that was how Stinger found himself on a planet’s surface with Kotarou, both bundled up because the weather on the planet was mild snow, staring at the small town in front of them. Everything had been decorated—street lamps, buildings, signs—and even evergreen trees had been decorated with lights and garland and weird balls. Kotarou was not thrown by any of that, and slipped his hand into Stinger’s as they walked to a grocery store at the end of the street.

“Remember, we have most of the items for the cookies back on the ship,” he reminded Kotarou as the kid insisted on carrying the hand basket himself and finding the items. “We just need icing and cookie decorations.” He didn’t know what constituted a cookie decoration, but Kotarou had a list. Luckily there was an endcap with red and green candy and sprinkles and other baking stuff, so Kotarou looked like he’d be able to find all his decorations in one stop.

Stinger wasn’t sure that Kotarou actually needed six cookie cutters, four different kinds of sprinkles, a bag of candy-coated chocolates, four colors of icing, small red candies, chocolate chips, and coconut flakes. But in his defense, he had all that on his list, and Stinger really did not want to make the mistake of asking what everything was for. He’d find out once they made the cookies and Kotarou started decorating them.

He took the basket from Kotarou and took care of purchasing the items. Kid didn’t need to know that he was paying with his own funds and not Kotarou’s. All the items fit into one bag, which Kotarou eagerly grabbed and carried.

That took them to lunch time, so back on the street, Stinger told Kotarou to pick out a place to stop and get some food. He picked a small place that served breakfast and lunch, and appeared to be mostly sandwiches and salads.

They ordered at the counter, Kotarou studying the menu and then deciding he wanted grilled cheese. “Make it two grilled cheese sandwiches,” Stinger muttered to the cashier. “He’s been a bottomless pit lately.”

She smiled. “How old is he?”

“Ten.”

“My younger brother is nine. He’s kind of the same way.”

Kotarou was at his side, tugging the side of his coat. “Aniki, can I get a cookie too?”

“You need to tell her what kind.”

Kotarou looked up at the cashier. “Chocolate chip, please.”

Her smile grew a little bigger as she added that to their order. She looked at him. “What can I get for you?”

“Just a toasted turkey sandwich. However it comes is fine. Water for both of us.”

When he moved to pay, she waved him away. “You’re both Kyuurangers, right? Don’t worry about it. My mom would kill me for charging you, especially since you’ve kept Jark Matter away from here.”

Stinger smiled at her, and nodded his thanks. They found a small table by the window. Kotarou looked out at the snow gently falling. Stinger had to admit, the scene was kind of pretty. His home planet didn’t see things like snow, and his first experience had been a blizzard that shut down a large town for two days. He hadn’t been eager to repeat the experience. The lights and decorations were also kind of nice. A little cheesy, but kind of comforting that people could find enough joy and time to put them up. “We used to do a big Christmas celebration with my mom,” Kotarou was saying as their food arrived. “We’d get a tree and decorate it, and wrap presents for each other and put them under the tree. And open everything on the twenty-fifth.” He paused. “It was fun. We’d get a cake and big dinner.” He shrugged, looking a little sad. “My grandpa stopped. Not enough money. Not with Jark Matter around.” He looked at Stinger. “I guess we can’t have a tree on the ship, huh?”

“Not a real one,” Stinger replied softly.

Kotarou looked down. “I don’t even have paper to wrap my presents for everyone.”

“There’s special paper?”

“Yeah. It makes all the presents look pretty.”

“This was really special to you?”

Kotarou nodded as he took a bite of his sandwich. 

Stinger reached across the table and ruffled his hair. “Eat your food. Maybe there’s a shop around here where we can see about getting a small tree.”

“Really?” Kotarou looked beyond excited. 

And that was how Stinger found himself purchasing way more than he had planned and all of the items damned frivolous. But he and Naaga were usually really frugal and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the money. He’d even inherited a decent nest egg from his brother—money from before he joined Jark Matter that had just been sitting in an account. Spending a little bit to make Kotarou—and likely a bunch of the others—happy was fine. Naaga would have been fine with this too. 

Kotarou didn’t want to buy pre-made decorations for the tree, because he and his mom had handmade all the decorations. The small four-foot tree would work—artificial, because Stinger could not imagine trying to keep a real one alive on the ship. Kotarou found some simple white lights, and appropriate paper and ribbon. The store next door was sewing and craft supplies, so Stinger turned Kotarou loose to pick out a bunch of craft supplies to make the decorations. (So they’d have the cookies and now craft projects.) He kept an eye on Kotarou as he watched behind the counter. There was a large machine there with a quilt on a rack. Looked like the machine was doing the actual quilting, because someone had already sewn the top.

The lady behind the counter saw him watching. “Never seen that done by machine?” she asked.

“No,” he answered honestly. “We do that by hand on my home planet.”

“There’s something satisfying in that,” she acknowledged. “This is a lot faster, but just as durable.”

Huh. He nodded, and then turned to Kotarou, frowned and said, “Add more than just red and green felt.” Kotarou reluctantly added white and yellow felt to the basket.

“You can get a block of fabric scraps in holiday fabric,” the lady said, still smiling. She motioned to a pile on the counter. He inspected the block of fabric—cotton and artificial blends. Kotarou would be able to use a normal pair of scissors to cut it into strips. 

Kotarou joined him at the counter with his basket.

“You’re from a planet that does a lot of handcrafts?” she asked.

He nodded, but added, “Not really by choice. We didn’t have a lot of resources, so everyone had to learn in order to survive.”

“You knit?” He nodded again. She motioned to a knitting project she had on the counter, looked like a shawl or really big scarf. “Maybe you can tell me why my rows aren’t lining up. The knitting expert around here can’t tell.”

Stinger frowned. Person wasn’t much of an expert, because this was obvious. “Dropped stitches,” he replied, and then pointed to the randomly scattered places. She looked impressed.

They finished paying for their purchases and dragged everything to the Voyager, and then back to the ship. Everyone else seemed to be on a shift, because no one was around as they went into the galley. The galley on the new ship was a little different—large kitchen and pantry, long table with enough seats for everyone, but also an open area near a window with small, low tables, chairs and couches. This entire project was going to take a while, because Stinger had no clue what was going on, and having the ten year old in charge meant no efficiency coupled with vague instructions.

Probably why Spada and Hame found them on the floor three hours later, the tree and lights set up, surrounded by debris from the decoration making. Which it was likely a good thing they showed up when they did, because Stinger was about to murder the next popsicle stick he saw. 

“Oo,” Hame cried. “This looks fun.” And was immediately on the floor with them.

“Si,” Spada agreed. He, too, joined them on the floor. He nodded to the bag of cookie decorations. “What’s with the bag of candy?”

“It’s for Kotarou’s cookies,” Stinger said. “I’ll help him with that tomorrow.”

Spada nodded. Stinger could see he was itching to ask follow-up questions, but was keeping quiet. Good for him. He glanced at the time.

“Can you keep an eye on him and make sure he doesn’t glue anything together he shouldn’t?” Stinger asked Spada. “I need to go call Naaga.”

“Sure,” Spada agreed as he got up and went into the hallway towards their room.

Once in their room, he called Naaga, who picked up immediately. “Hey,” he said with the ghost of a smile on his face. He had his hat on, pulled down close to his eyes. His hair was stuck in one of his eyes because of his hat. “You look exhausted.”

He snorted a laugh. “Been chasing Kotarou all day.”

“Doing what?”

He related the cookies that had then spiraled into the tree and decorations. Naaga did not seem fazed about the money spent on that stuff. He just smiled a little more. “I think it was very kind of you to do all that for Kotarou.”

“Well, the others seem to be excited too. When I left, Hame and Spada were in there.”

“More will be in there when you get back.”

Naaga was not wrong. He asked Naaga about their mission and everything appeared to be going well, they were well on their way to getting all the needed supplies. They said their goodbyes, and Naaga promised to call again that night before they both went to sleep. When Stinger got back down to the galley, Lucky, Tsurugi and Garou had appeared, and were immersed in the decoration making with Kotarou. (Who seemed really pleased that everyone was looking to him for direction for once. Even if it was just about crafts.)

And, really, Kotarou’s excitement level seemed to go up the more people that were interested in this, and that wasn’t a bad thing.

\------------------

The next week passed in a blur. Normal things—missions, recon, ship shifts—but then all of the holiday stuff that just seemed to blossom before them. 

He made sure Spada was assigned somewhere else in the ship when he and Kotarou made the cookies. The base cookie was a little bit bland, very simple, but Stinger soon understood that was because of the immense decorations piled on them. He more closely supervised the actual cookies than the decorating, just let Kotarou run wild on the candy and icing. And run wild he did. The cookies made Stinger’s back teeth hurt just to look at them. (He kept a few aside and just dusted them with a little sugar and cinnamon. He figured he’d save those for him and Naaga.)

The first batch of cookies got scarfed down in a ridiculously short amount of time. But Kotarou had bought more decorating supplies than he really needed, so that would easily cover a second (and probably a third) batch.

He could not figure out how to get the stupid flimsy paper they’d bought around his gifts without tearing the paper, so he’d had to get Kotarou to help him. Kotarou just shook his head and showed him how to fold the paper around the gifts. 

“Hey, Aniki, why do you have so many smaller gifts for Naaga?”

“My home planet exchanges gifts starting on the twenty-first.”

“That’s cool,” Kotarou said. “We only open gifts on the twenty-fifth.” He paused. “So you and Naaga are doing that this year?”

He nodded.

“Maybe I can join in next year?”

Kotarou looked so hopeful that he smiled and ruffled his hair. By the third gift, he figured out how to fold the paper without using tape and could just use a little ribbon to hold everything in place.

That afternoon, Kotarou put his gifts under the tree in the galley. The tree was up on a table and Kotarou’s gifts looked a little lonely there, but Kotarou seemed pleased. Then someone else added their gifts to the pile. And then another person. Soon enough, the gifts were overflowing from the table and onto the floor. Twelve people on the ship, people getting something for the other eleven. Stinger could do the math and that was a lot of stuff under that tree.

In the evening, he talked to Naaga again.

“You’re going to be late?” His heart fell. Honestly, he had no idea why that simple fact just made him feel isolated and alone.

“Just by a day,” Naaga reassured him. “We’ll be back on the twenty-first.”

“I know. It’s fine. You need to be safe.”

“Stinger,” Naaga said with a frown. “Are you really okay? You seem sad.”

No point in lying to Naaga. “I’m not. But I don’t know what’s wrong. Really.”

“You said Kotarou’s cookies were really popular?”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of his throat. “I’d say so. Hame ate three, Lucky ate six, and Garou ate nine.”

Naaga’s eyes widened slightly. 

“I saved some for us,” Stinger added. “I decorated them, so they’re edible.” He sighed. “You’re sure you’ll be back on the twenty-first?”

“I will. I promise.” He paused. “I know it’s still early there, but please just go to bed. You look really tired.”

They said their goodbyes and disconnected the call. Maybe, Stinger reflected, he felt lonely because all of this would have been way more fun with Naaga here. 

\------------------

On the twenty-first, Stinger heard from Naaga first thing in the morning. He and Balance were on their way and would be back on the ship just after lunch. His morning shift didn’t last long because he was with Raptor in a maintenance bay, and managed to hit his head twice on low-hanging vents. After the second time, Raptor politely suggested he go take some painkillers and go down to the Voyager Bay to see what maintenance was needed down there.

He stopped by their room to get mild painkillers from the first aid kit, but stopped short. He’d left his gift for Naaga today on the footlocker. But there was another gift sitting on what could loosely be defined as Stinger’s pillow. (The only reason either of them had a “side of the bed” had to do strictly with who’s stuff was in which nightstand. Mostly they didn’t care. Whoever got in bed first just scooted all the way over.) 

He sat down on the bed and picked up the small package (a little thankful that he’d actually made the bed that morning in anticipation of Naaga getting back.) The paper was heavier than the stuff he and Kotarou had used, and was tied together with a piece of thick blue string. A scrap of paper was folded over and tucked under the string. He removed the scrap and unfolded it. 

And then he smiled. 

_In case I’m not back, here’s your first gift. Naaga._

The note was accompanied by a little cartoon drawing that Stinger recognized was supposed to be Naaga waving. And Naaga had not done this on a datapad and printed it out—he’d actually found paper and a felt-tip pen and hand drawn this.

Tears stung his eyes. Gods, he was going to sit here and cry over a note?

Sniffing hard, he untied the string and unfolded the paper around the package. A scarf. That Naaga had made. He furiously wiped at a tear falling down his cheek. He’d tried to teach Naaga how to knit, but Naaga had yet to really find the rhythm and was frustrated by it. So Stinger taught him to crochet instead, one hook, would probably be easier. And Naaga took to that pretty well. The scarf was simple, a little uneven, made with soft orange yarn. He ran his hands over the yarn.

Damn it all to hell, he fucking loved Naaga.

Wiping his eyes, he took off the scarf he was wearing and put on the one Naaga made. He tucked the note in his desk drawer. He finally downed the mild painkillers and went down to the Voyager Bay.

At lunch, Raptor mentioned one of the servers in the main computer room had disconnected from their network—likely one of the cables got pulled loose during a recent battle. Crawling around the main computer room to find a loose cable was not his idea of fun, but Raptor was not especially made for things like that, and the others all had other things to attend to. So Stinger found himself crawling around cables after lunch, letting out a long sigh as Raptor told him which server to check.

Just as he found the loose cable and reconnected it, much to Raptor’s delight, he got a message from Naaga that they had landed and were heading up to the living quarters.

He couldn’t really describe why he felt like a weight lifted when he knew Naaga was back on the ship. Hopefully Jark Matter would stay quiet for a few days so that they could really enjoy things before finally finishing the black hole machine and dealing with Planet Southern Cross.

“I have to go, Raptor,” he called as he crawled out from between the servers and took off out of the room.

“Thank you!” she yelled after him.

He finally caught up to Naaga and Balance—they were in the hallway leading to the living quarters and were carrying a large storage crate between them. Stinger frowned a little at the storage crate, but pressed a quick kiss to Naaga’s lips (which he responded to) and then asked, “You need some help?” Naaga nodded and gave him enough room to grab the handle next to him. “What even is all this?” he asked, expecting them to say supplies they’d gotten. Which didn’t explain why they were dragging them away from the maintenance bays.

“Super sweet treasure haul!” Balance cried. “Also, nice to see you too, Stinger.”

“Hi Balance,” he responded automatically. “Where are we taking this?”

“Our room,” was Naaga’s reply.

“What did you pick up that needs to go in our room?”

“You’ll see.”

Nice, cryptic response. He just hoped the storage crate was not completely full of weird stuff that Balance had somehow talked Naaga into agreeing to take. (Not that Balance usually did things like, but everyone was on edge or a little too into the holiday spirit right now. Off kilter. So all bets were off.) They took the crate to their room and placed it on the floor in the open space near the window. Stinger continued frowning as Balance opened the crate, and then he and Naaga lifted an extremely beat up footlocker from the crate. They set the footlocker on the floor.

And that, oddly, was when Balance said, “See you guys later!” and was gone.

“Naaga, what—”

But then Naaga was talking quickly and wringing his hands. “I wanted to tell you, but Balance said it would be better as a surprise, and I wasn’t sure, and then we had the opportunity to stop and that’s why we were late, it wasn’t because the supply mission took longer, and then we got there and everything was so devastated and I didn’t want you to have to see that and—”

“Naaga,” he interrupted, stepping into his space and gently cupping his face. “You’re not making any sense. What’s in the footlocker?”

Naaga stepped away from him and opened the battered clasps on the footlocker—standard issue, like so many all over the universe, similar to the one he had. He opened the lid, lifting it and resting it over the other side, completely open. He reached out and took Stinger’s hand, tugging him over to the footlocker. Giving Naaga a questioning look, he glanced into the open container—

—and then reeled back, hand over his mouth.

His whole chest felt tight and he wasn’t sure he could breath.

“Naaga,” he gasped. “How?”

Naaga’s arm was around his waist and he was pressed to his back. “It was in our route to the other planets,” he whispered. “I know you said before you wondered if anything was left there.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “Stinger, it’s really bad. You shouldn’t see that.” He pressed closer, shaking a little himself. “But they left the buildings and structures, didn’t even mine for resources. So we found this and salvaged everything we could from the tent.”

Stinger slid to his knees, still feeling Naaga’s heat behind him. He pulled the top item out, which was a quilt he had made as a teenager, while still learning everything involved. Obviously something they’d picked up from the tent, because that would have been on his cot the night that everything happened. He’d made the quilt from fabric scraps, mostly brown, but some orange and black. The next thing was something else that would have been on his cot—a blue, black and green afghan that Makino-baachan had knitted for him before he went off for basic military training. 

Then he realized that the footlocker was not just one they found. This was literally, his family’s footlocker, that had been in his tent. He doubted Scorpio would have put anything in the footlocker, but his parents’ things would be in there—family quilts, blankets, mementos, things that had been too raw when he was a kid to look at, and too busy as an adult to reminisce over. Things that just stayed in the footlocker, always thinking nothing could possibly happen, he’d always be able to go back to them. Those things would be waiting for tomorrow. Always tomorrow for them. And then tomorrow hadn’t come.

Lifting out the top two blankets that were his, he realized how much was underneath. Quilts, for sure, journals, weapons, an old datapad that needed to be charged, small wooden boxes… he wasn’t entirely sure what his mother, and then his father, had put in this footlocker for them. 

Then he realized he was crying.

He really couldn’t breath, gasping for air. His hand automatically went to his chest as he tried, desperately, to draw in air. But he was sobbing and no breaks to actually breath were coming.

“Stinger,” Naaga was on the floor with him. “You need to breath.”

He turned to Naaga, trying to breath deeply, but nothing was coming. He just gasped and made a wheezing noise, sobs continuing.

Naaga looked worried. “I think you should lie down. We can go through everything in a bit.”

Unable to process or think of anything else to do, he nodded, and allowed Naaga to pull him to his feet, leading him to their bed. He collapsed on his side, still unable to breath properly. He knew, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he needed to just take a deep breath. But he couldn’t quite get his body to cooperate. Naaga took off his Seiza Blaster and set it on the nightstand. He rolled over awkwardly so Naaga could pull off his jacket.

When Naaga went to remove the scarf, he said, “No, I want to keep this.”

A nod, and then Naaga moved down to take off his boots. 

“You’re still hyperventilating a little,” Naaga said softly. “You should probably take a sedative.”

“Naaga…”

“Stinger, just a mild one. It will make you doze for about forty minutes.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” Naaga confirmed.

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

He nodded, and allowed Naaga to give him the pill and a bottle of water to chase the pill down with. Naaga grabbed a blanket from the footlocker to cover him with. As he finished tucking him in, Stinger reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Can you wash one of the quilts? Not the one I pulled out, but any of the others.”

“Of course. Don’t they need to be a special wash setting?”

He shook his head. “They’re sturdy. Just how we wash our other bedding.”

Naaga nodded, and then handed him his bird stuffed animal. He grabbed the bird close to his chest and closed his eyes. 

“Naaga, you’re fucking incredible,” he muttered before he fell asleep. He wasn’t sure if he said it aloud or not, but couldn’t stay awake long enough to find out.

\------------------

Naaga sat in front of the washing machine, knees pulled to his chest, willing himself not to cry as he tried to figure out Stinger’s reaction. He’d been expecting a lot of strong emotions, perhaps even anger because Stinger might have seen all of this as a violation. (He didn’t think that would be the case. Stinger had always been a little nostalgic about his home planet, sometimes wondered aloud if he’d be able to find all his family’s things, but never expressed a desire to go there. He’d said lots of times before that there was nothing left there for him.) He had definitely been expecting the tears, because as much as Stinger downplayed his feelings, Naaga knew that he wished his parents hadn’t died when he was so young. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Stinger thought that his brother would have never betrayed them to Jark Matter nor would he have gone over to the enemy had his parents not died when they did.

So the tears had been expected.

What scared him and made him uncertain was when Stinger started hyperventilating. The only time Naaga had seen Stinger in a similar state had been the night after everything with his brother, when he woke up from a nightmare and had a panic attack. The entire ordeal had been traumatizing, so Naaga expected things like that to happen. Stinger pretended to be aloof, but he felt things deeply. 

All he could think was that Stinger need to lie down, so he could calm down and process, and then they’d be able to go through all the things.

But, maybe, maybe, this had all been a mistake. Maybe he should have left well enough alone.

He pressed his face to his knees and suppressed a sob.

And the village had really been awful. Naaga was used to seeing worlds that Jark Matter invaded. Governors and Chief Retainers would take over government officials’ housing, and they would use existing structures to house their forces. They would oppress the people on the planet, making examples of many, and then limiting the rest’s access to resources. (Kotarou’s story about his mother getting sick and being unable to go to a hospital for medicine was familiar—the same story was true on so many planets.) But this…

Jark Matter had all but razed the village. Large portions had been burned, the charred frames of the tents all that remained. A large charred pit was on the outskirts of the village. Naaga and Balance did not go over there—Naaga knew what that was. But the tents and wooden structures that had not been burned had just been left, food and resources left to the elements to rot. In some ways, that felt worse than Jark Matter stockpiling the resources. Anything that could help people was just left to become useless.

Honestly, Naaga had not been expecting to find anything. 

But as they sorted through the tents that had not been burned, he came across one where a lot of personal identification documents had been left—military ID card, a paper planetary passport (common on limited resources planets), some cash (also rare) and an android mechanic apprentice license. All of the items were Stinger’s. All the people here had left in a hurry, so Naaga was not surprised he left those items, but he was also pleased because he’d just found Stinger’s tent. 

The footlocker was three-quarters full of family mementos, so he and Balance had just added from the tent what looked sentimental. The quilt and afghan from the cot, for sure. Stinger had a wooden chest of drawers that had some clothes, knives and a leather journal. The journal was gone, eaten by bugs and the elements, but anything fabric seemed to have held up. Balance thought that planets like this one used sealant on fabric that repelled bugs, which would explain why the blankets on Stinger’s cot had still been in good condition. They packed the blankets, clothes and knives, but left the journal. The ID cards and cash, they added as well. Everything in the footlocker appeared preserved. Journals and paper were sealed in vacuum packs, and the whole trunk smelt of cedar when they opened it.

“Okay, Naaga. This is new for you. Never seen you watch laundry before.”

Balance had come into the laundry room. Naaga raised his head enough to look at Balance. 

“Not that you’re going to see it, at this rate,” Balance continued, and then sat down on the floor next to him. “What’s wrong? Stinger upset?”

“He’s sleeping.”

“Yeah, probably pretty hard for him to see all that.” Balance nudged him. “But that doesn’t answer if he’s upset.”

“No.” Then Naaga corrected himself, “Maybe. I don’t know.”

“What did he do?”

Naaga related Stinger’s reaction.

“That all seems pretty normal,” Balance said. “He wasn’t angry, so that’s good. And then he let you put him to bed and give him a sedative, which you know he would have never done if he was riled up.”

“True.”

“So…”

Naaga wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. “So what?” he prompted Balance.

“So why are you watching the laundry?”

“Oh.” He turned back to the machine. “Stinger wanted me to wash one of the quilts and said that a normal setting was fine, but I wasn’t sure. So I’m watching it.”

“Naaga, you know anything Stinger makes is going to withstand a lot. I’d imagine it’s the same for anything his family made.”

“I want to be sure.”

“I know.” Balance glanced to the machine. “You got something other than a quilt in there?”

“The bear we found in the footlocker.”

“Ah. Stinger’ll be able to tell you when he wakes up, but I’m betting money that’s exactly what we think it is.”

“If it is, Scorpio just put it away. He didn’t get rid of it.”

“Doesn’t really make that part better, but at least it’s still around.” Balance patted his back. “Your laundry is going to be done in two minutes. So grab this stuff and go back to your room and sit with Stinger until he wakes up. It’s going to be fine, Naaga.”

He hoped Balance was right. 

Balance patted his back again and left the laundry room. The washing machine chimed that the cycle was done, so Naaga removed the now clean and dry quilt, and the bear. Both had gone through the machine with no visible damage, other than looking clean and a brighter color. (He supposed the sand would have discolored the fabric.) He didn’t know what the pattern on the quilt was. Stinger would be able to tell him. He folded the quilt over his arm and picked up the bear and went back to their room. 

Stinger was still asleep, breathing evenly. Naaga set the bear on his pillow and then gently brushed his hair out of his eyes. He shifted a little, leaning into the touch. Even though Stinger already had a blanket over him, Naaga spread the quilt over him as well. The quilt pattern vaguely looked like bunches of flowers, purple, orange and blue, with green and black stems. For lack of anything better to do and because he was still worried, Naaga knelt next to the bed, watching Stinger closely.

Only a few minutes had passed when Stinger stretched, exhaled and opened in his eyes. He started a little when he saw Naaga. “Gods, Naaga,” he said, voice hoarse as he sat up. “I’m fine. You don’t need to hover.” He paused and glanced down. “Don’t your knees hurt?”

“Haven’t been here that long.”

“Will you sit on the bed with me, please?”

Naaga stood up. Stinger pulled the quilt into his lap, running his hands over the pattern. He then noticed the bear. Frowning, he set the stuffed animal in his lap. “Aniki, said he got rid of this,” he said softly, and then louder, “Naaga, please sit down.”

He hurriedly sat down across from him, briefly touching the quilt. “Are you upset?” he asked quietly, hurriedly. Stinger didn’t seem upset, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t mad somehow.

“No, Naaga, this is amazing.” He ran a hand over the bear, before saying, “I can’t believe that you and Balance found all this stuff untouched.”

“We got lucky.”

Stinger’s eyes were bright. “I’m glad. All this was important to my family.” He motioned to the quilt. “This is my parent’s wedding quilt.” He pulled up the bottom corner. Embroidered on the corner were their names and the date they got married. “This is a flower basket quilt. Makino-baachan said that was my father’s favorite quilt design. He made one for Aniki and he made one for me. They should be in the footlocker too.” He paused, exhaling. “My parents also made a tree of paradise quilt together around their tenth wedding anniversary.” 

“What was the one you made?”

Stinger paused before saying, “Oh, that was a log cabin quilt. I made it when I was about fifteen. Makino-baachan said a log cabin quilt is for everyday use, but that never made sense to me because we used all quilts everyday.”

Naaga looked down, staring at the design of the quilt. Stinger’s hand gently closed on his wrist, and he allowed himself to be tugged next to Stinger. He was not expecting Stinger to just wrap both arms around him and pull him into a tight embrace. 

“Naaga,” Stinger whispered in his ear. “Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I wanted to go see if this stuff survived, but could never talk myself into it because I didn’t want to go see where everyone I’d known by entire life were slaughtered.” He let out a shaky breath. “By my own brother, no less.”

“Stinger,” he breathed, pressing his face against Stinger’s shoulder, feeling himself relax just a little. This was okay. Stinger was okay. He hadn’t made a huge mistake.

“You are fucking incredible.”

Naaga thought about all the conversations about holiday traditions that had been coming up recently and how some people had gotten annoyed with him asking questions. Stinger just told him stories, and the whole thing with the blankets and quilts seemed really interesting. All of those had meaning and Naaga found himself wanting to know more.

“Will you tell me more about the quilts?”

Stinger nodded, leaning back a little, and then said, “Shit, I almost forgot.” He released Naaga to pick up a small package on the footlocker, next to their extra blankets. “I clearly got yours for today,” he said with a slight smile, motioning to the scarf.

The scarf was not nearly as nice as anything Stinger made, but he still asked, “Do you like it?”

“It’s perfect.” He pushed the package into Naaga’s hands.

Unsure why he was shaking a little, he opened the paper. Inside was a small sketchpad and pack of brush-tip markers. Naaga could not even fathom where Stinger would have found those—everything was digital and artists didn’t use supplies like that frequently. Naaga had gone through everything on the ship to find the pen he used to write Stinger the note—in the end, he realized the only pens were in the emergency kits, and in Stinger’s desk. So he’d borrowed Stinger’s. 

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Stinger pressed a long, chaste kiss to his lips. Naaga responded, wanting to bask in the closeness. When Stinger pulled back, he swore. “I think I had an afternoon shift.” 

“You didn’t. I checked.”

Stinger didn’t look particular bothered one way or another. He pushed the blanket and the quilt off him and got out of bed. He grabbed Naaga’s hand and tugged him off the bed as well. “Come on,” Stinger said softly. “Help me sort through all this stuff.”

The afternoon and evening passed in a blur. Stinger could tell stories about every item they uncovered. The top quilt had been one he made—he called the design a log cabin, and talked about the quilt meaning home and hearth (and pointed out the red piece of fabric in each square.) The afghan was one that his caretaker made for him, right before he left for his initial military training. Most of the clothes they found, Stinger laughed a little and put them aside to be washed. He put his documents and cash in the lockbox on his desk, telling Naaga he’d take care of those items later. The quilts that Stinger mentioned were in the footlocker—the two quilts that belonged to his parents, and the ones that his father made for him and his brother. 

He pulled a small blanket that was in two pieces with ties connecting them from the footlocker and just said, “This is a baby blanket.” He turned over the piece, and confirmed, “It’s mine.” He held up the blanket and at Naaga’s questioning look, he said, “The blanket’s in two pieces so our parents could put it around our tails—that way, you can move your tail when you sleep and not get it caught on blankets. Babies can’t control it that well. You can usually control it by age two or so.”

Naaga charged the datapad. Stinger confirmed that the vacuum-sealed were documents—one was a recipe book, and the other appeared to be his mother’s journal. There were family mementos—wood carvings, some candle holders, a mortar and pestle, ceramic dishes. There were several other afghans and scarves. At the bottom of the footlocker, Stinger paused. He lifted out a quilt and unfolded it. “I haven’t seen this one before,” he muttered. The pattern was like the one Stinger had made—log cabin—with red centers to the squares. One side was gray fading into black. The other was light orange to a dark orange. “Wait,” he turned over the corner. “Both my parents made this… for me?” He spread out the quilt, which was large enough for a double bed. “My mom started it and my dad finished it. And it’s supposed to be for me.”

And then Stinger was crying again. (He’d been a little teary while they went through the items.) But this quilt just pushed him into full-on tears again. Naaga held him close and he quieted after a while. He was able to convince him to go to dinner, and after dinner, they washed the blankets and clothes and anything else washable. They stacked the quilts and blankets in a new storage crate, and then Stinger spread the quilt his parents had made for him over their bed. They got ready for bed, and Stinger was still putting away some things when Naaga started dozing against the headboard.

When he woke up, most of the lights were off, and Stinger was hunched over on the floor, lit only by the light of a datapad. 

“Stinger? What time is it?”

“Late.”

Naaga pushed the blankets off himself and joined Stinger on the floor. “What are you doing?”

Stinger motioned to the datapad. “This actually charged. The passcode was my birthday. I think this was my dad’s—he’s got all kinds of pictures and videos on here.” Stinger scrolled through to a video. There was a pretty woman in the foreground, dressed liked everyone from Stinger’s planet. Her hair was brown and wavy, loosely braided. She was carrying a baby. The audio wasn’t clear from the rushing wind, but there was enough context to know that was Stinger’s mother and she was carrying him.

“That’s your mother?”

Stinger nodded. “I’ve never even seen a picture of her before.” He smiled sadly. Naaga moved so he was sitting behind Stinger, an arm wrapped around his waist, pressing himself to his back. Stinger settled back against him. “I always kind of knew my father took her death hard, but I had no idea.”

Naaga nuzzled his shoulder, holding him tighter. 

“I found this in her journal.” He held up a piece of paper with his name. “I haven’t read it yet.”

“Do you want to?”

“Can you read it to me?”

He took the piece of paper and unfolded it. Stinger adjusted himself so he was resting his head on Naaga’s shoulder. Naaga took a deep breath, and began to read. “Stinger,” the letter started. “The Dragonscale outbreak started a few days ago and I spent too much time in recent days with one of the first to fall ill. I am dying even thinking about this, but I don’t know if I have any time left.”

Stinger was biting his lips, tears welling up.

“No matter what happens to me, I want you to know that I love you so much. I will always find a way to be watching over you. You were such a happy baby—your brother is kind, but always a little cold, a little calculating, an exaggeration of your father, why your father is such a good guard. But you, I think you smiled the moment you could. You are just happy and pleased to be around people. I hope that nothing takes that away from you.”

Stinger was crying again.

“Whatever happens, I want you to be happy. I want you to find someone to love, who loves you completely and without reservation. I hope you have a family and can understand why you bring me so much joy. No matter what, I want you to always fight for what’s right, and I want you to find something that makes you happy. It was silly, but when I was pregnant with you, I started making you a log cabin quilt. I want you to use that quilt, hopefully with someone you love. Your father promised he would finish the quilt for me. If you don’t find someone immediately, just know that these things take time. You live your own truth. And you are loved so much.

“You are my little scorpion, and I love you more than you can know. Don’t be afraid to chase after tomorrow. Never forget that you deserve all the happiness in the world. I love you forever.”

The silence was almost deafening until Stinger sniffed. The video on the datapad was paused, a picture of his mother smiling. 

“You look like her,” Naaga whispered.

“Naaga?” Stinger replied, turning to look at him. “I’m glad it’s you.”

“Me too.” Stinger scrubbed his hands over his face, and yawned. Naaga loved the warm feeling spreading through his chest, but Stinger was exhausted, and Naaga had spent the morning traveling. “We need to go to bed.”

Stinger nodded and put the letter back in his mother’s journal. He switched off the datapad and set the device on his desk. He then allowed Naaga to lead him back to their bed. Before they got in bed, Stinger stepped into his space and pushed his shirt over his head. At his questioning look, Stinger said, “Gods, no. Neither one of us will be able stay awake long enough to have sex. I just don’t want any barriers between us tonight.”

They quickly stripped off their pajamas and crawled into bed. Stinger ended up pressing himself against Naaga’s back, his tail and arm wrapped around his waist, one leg over his. Stinger pressed a kiss to his shoulder, whispering, “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

\------------------

The snow was falling softly again when Stinger took Naaga to the small town. Jark Matter was thankfully quiet, no changes at Planet Southern Cross, so they’d had a few days to enjoy all the activity that kept cropping up. Spada had grudgingly admitted that Kotarou might have been on to something with his cookies, especially judging from the way the cookies got gobbled up immediately. 

Naaga slipped his hand into his. “Do all places look like this?”

Stinger assumed he meant decorated, because he replied with, “Only the ones that celebrate holidays around this time of year. And I would guess only the ones with money or resources.”

“It’s pretty.” Naaga gave him a sidelong look. “What are we doing this afternoon?”

They went to a coffee shop along the main street, getting chairs by the window to sit close together and watch the lazy afternoon pass by them. 

The last two days had been emotionally exhausting for him, and he was having trouble staying awake until even Kotarou’s bedtime, but he was glad. They’d washed all the quilts, blankets and clothes. Most of the clothes were not things he would wear anymore, but wasn’t ready to part with them. Naaga had been nervous about using the quilts and other blankets, and Stinger had been reassuring him that all of them were meant to be used. None were meant to be stored away somewhere.

Neither one of them had an afternoon shift yesterday, so Stinger had grabbed Naaga’s hand and led him back to their room. He’d spent the afternoon exploring Naaga’s body and bringing him over the edge a couple of times. Spent and satisfied, he’d held Naaga close afterwards, gently brushing his hair out of his eyes. He’d read parts of his mother’s journal—mostly a catalogue of day to day life in their village. His mother seemed practical and sensible and wanted others to be happy. He couldn’t help but think that she would be happy for him, and that she’d like Naaga.

They walked through the town a little, Naaga pressing close to him in the cold.

This was quiet and peaceful and the break his brain absolutely needed.

Before they went back to the ship, Stinger picked up a package from one of the shops. Naaga didn’t question the package, either because he was respecting Stinger’s privacy or he had figured out that asking questions close to a gift-giving occasion would only get a vague answer in return. He was learning fast about all these traditions.

\------------------

The morning of the twenty-fifth, Stinger blinked awake at a ridiculously early time. He couldn’t help but think, after so many years of purposely blocking the memories, of how today would have gone in his village. They woke up with the sunrise, and the cook team prepared a special breakfast—sweet things dusted with cinnamon, and sausages and juice—and people would supplement with their own sweet rolls and other baked goods. Families would exchange gifts, overwhelmingly practical things that they needed. A ceremony would be held around midday to honor the dead. He’d been too young to remember the year his family lit a candle for his mother, but he remembered the year they lit a candle for his father. This year, he would light a candle for his older brother. 

And then a huge dinner and storytelling, and special hot drinks around the fire after nightfall.

“Stinger?” Naaga shifted against him.

“Good morning,” he whispered as Naaga rolled over to face him. He gently ran his fingers through Naaga’s hair, smoothing down the strands and brushing them away from his face. 

Exhaling sleepily, Naaga echoed the sentiment. “The others seemed really excited about today.”

“People look forward to holidays.”

“I’m glad I get to experience it with you… and everyone else.”

Stinger adjusted his arm around Naaga’s waist. “Didn’t you and Balance celebrate?”

“Balance wanted to, but we were on a transport ship to another system.”

“Gold or gems?”

“Platinum bars.”

“Ah.” Stinger pressed a quick kiss to his lips and slipped out of bed. “I’m glad we’re both awake. I have a gift I want to give you now, before we go to the galley with the others.” Naaga sat up a little, eyes tracking Stinger’s movements as he went to his footlocker and extracted a small package. He got back into bed next to Naaga, and handed him the gift.

Heart hammering in his chest, he just said softly, “Open it.”

Naaga untied the ribbon slowly and folded back the paper. This was a risk, but still, he was going ahead with this. And he was glad that he had his mother’s—his parent’s—quilt on their bed right now. His mother had wanted him to have the quilt with someone he loved. Naaga opened the box and stared at what was inside for a long moment.

When he looked up, his eyes looked bright. “Stinger,” he said softly.

He raised one hand to cup Naaga’s cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone. “I know we haven’t even been together a year yet, but I have never been more sure about anything in my life as I am about you. Before I met you, I just thought I was broken and deserved to be alone. I didn’t think I could love anyone. But Naaga… I love you more than I can even fathom. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, because you make me better.”

A tear rolled down Naaga’s cheek. Stinger wiped it away with his thumb.

“Naaga,” he whispered. “Will you marry me?”

Naaga sniffed a little, raising his own hand to wipe away more tears, before replying, “Yes.” Stinger visibly slumped with relief. Naaga’s eyes widened. “Did you think I would say no?” he asked, disbelief evident. 

“I was pretty sure you’d say yes, but who knows? Maybe you want to see what else is out there besides me.”

Naaga shook his head. “You think so little of yourself. Why would I want to see what else is out there when I already have you?” He scooted closer, wrapping both arms around Stinger, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You always just accepted me for what I am. You never tried to change me.” Stinger wrapped both arms around his waist, pressing a long, lingering kiss to Naaga’s lips.

“I fucking love you so much,” he murmured against his lips.

Naaga smiled a little. “I love you too.”

Stinger released him enough to find the box, and they slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers. Naaga studied the ring a little. “Did you make these?” he asked.

Stinger nodded. “I spent more time on them, so they’re more finished than the first ones I made.” He tapped Naaga’s. “Silver scraps. I etched Hebitsukai and Sasori inside the bands.”

“You’re amazing.”

Stinger rubbed the back of his neck. “I have one more thing.”

Naaga’s expression clearly belied his disbelief that Stinger could have yet another gift—Naaga had clearly forgotten about everything under the tree in the galley. This gift Stinger had stored under the bed last night, so he just leaned over and pulled up the bulky package. Naaga frowned and untied the ribbon, pushing back the paper. When he did, his eyes got wide. “Stinger, it’s…” he trailed off, a few more tears falling.

“Our quilt,” Stinger supplied. “I’ve been working on it for a while. I had to cheat a little and have it machine-quilted. So I could have it for today. Normally, I’d have done all that too. But the machine work is sturdy, so it will still hold up well.” He was babbling.

Naaga was running his fingers over the quilt. “What is it?” he whispered.

“Pandora’s Box. I like that one the best.”

He had similar colors in all the squares, a lot of neutrals and navy blue, but he had interspersed silvers and grays, and two shades of orange, one soft and one brighter. The border was an off-white, almost a cream color, simply because that was the fabric he’d had the most of. Quilts were a process and, in his village, multiple people often worked on a quilt to help the project go faster. The design was fairly simple, so he’d been able to piece together the top in his spare time over the last six months. But going into the shop with the quilting machine had given him the idea to have this done for today.

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s ours.” He showed Naaga the corner where he’d embroidered their names and the date.

Then Naaga was spreading out the quilt, obviously wanting to see the whole thing. He just stared for a minute at the quilt. And then he was climbing into Stinger’s lap and kissing him soundly and fiercely. Stinger wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him grounded, responding to his kisses. He felt warm and happy, like he could face tomorrow. Maybe they’d get the future he dreamed of. They had no idea what was coming, but they could face everything together.

“Stinger?”

“Hmm?”

“Do we have to tell the others?”

“Not yet.”

“Good, I want this to be something special for just us right now.”

Someone might notice the new rings, on different hands and fingers, but the others were more likely to be excited about opening presents. Stinger didn’t really care if they speculated. He had Naaga and that was all that mattered.

\------------------

Spirits were high in the galley. Spada laid out a buffet-style breakfast, with treats from everyone’s home world (or as many as people had deigned to share with Spada.) The collective level of excitement was clearly more than Naaga was used to or entirely comfortable with, so he just tucked himself against Stinger’s side, watching the proceedings with wide eyes. 

Somehow, Garou ended up helping Kotarou pass out the presents, and Naaga actually started when Kotarou presented him with his first gift. From Balance.

It had taken a while to talk Balance around, but Stinger finally convinced him that Naaga would want practical gifts, not frivolous fluff like so many of the others enjoyed. Balance finally agreed he was right and set off finding stuff Naaga would find useful—pocket knife, water bottle with a built-in filter, hand warmers, wool socks. He then trusted that Balance would spread the word to any of the others who were interested, and they came through very well.

Naaga’s confusion as he got more gifts was almost endearing. Naaga had taken great pains to make sure he got something for everyone else, but was forgetting the reciprocity part again—he’d forgotten the others were getting him things too.

Stinger kissed Naaga’s temple, keeping an arm around him. Stinger, himself, had said loudly, multiple times, that he didn’t want anything. But then he made something for everyone else. And turned out he had been ignored once again. Naaga gave him a leather-bound journal, actual knitting needles and crochet hooks, and a multi-tool good for camping and outdoor survival. He’d knitted Naaga some socks and made him a lighter-weight scarf, and gotten him the full sketchpad software (and not just the light version that came with all datapads.)

Once all the gifts were open and everyone had enough breakfast, Stinger and Naaga slipped away for the candle-lighting ceremony. He could have shared the tradition with the others and they all would have eagerly participated, but he just felt too raw about it. He was sharing this with Naaga, and that seemed huge for now.

After dinner, Naaga was brewing some tea, as most of them lounged around the galley in food-induced stupors. 

“Is a congratulations in order?”

Stinger gave Spada a sharp look at the comment he made in an undertone. 

Spada shook his head. “I thought so. Congratulations.” He patted Stinger’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I’m not spreading it around to the others. You can tell them when you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for that,” he muttered.

Spada laughed. “They can get really excited, can’t they?” A pause, and then, “I know it’s really personal for you, but Naaga said you gave him a quilt this morning.”

“It wasn’t exactly a gift,” he corrected quickly. “It’s meant for both of us.”

“That’s what Naaga said. He also said it was beautiful, and I would love to see it.”

Stinger wasn’t used to anyone paying attention to the things he made. He found nothing remarkable about them, but none of the others knew handcrafts like he did. A little tingle of pride went through him that the others were interested. He nodded.

Spada looked pleased, then he commented, “Raptor doesn’t have you or Naaga on the schedule for tomorrow. Just has you listed as off-ship.”

Stinger nodded. “We’re leaving tomorrow for a Rebellion stronghold. Only a one day trip. I’m storing almost all of my family’s things there. I don’t want them lost again.”

“Is that the one that is supposed to survive any catastrophe and then the stronghold itself can become a spaceship if the planet is destroyed?”

“Yeah. It’s off the grid, so hopefully it doesn’t come to that.”

Naaga walked up with their tea at that moment, and the small container with their cookies. Spada laughed. “I knew you decorated some so you could stand them, and then hid them.”

Stinger shrugged.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he could get used to being around lots of noisy people. Everything leading up to this had actually been kind of fun. Gods, really, he was never admitting that aloud.

\------------------

The next morning, as Stinger was finishing packing the storage crate, Naaga joined him with both of their quilts, folded and clutched to his chest. He looked miserable, but determined.

“Naaga,” Stinger said gently. “Those are meant to be used. They’re ours.”

“I know,” Naaga said, voice small and tentative. “Just… we already lost one ship and hardly had time to evacuate. What if something happens to this one and we don’t have time to get anything? I don’t want these to be lost forever.”

“Naaga,” he breathed.

Naaga rubbed one of his eyes. “Attachment to possessions is unheard of on my home planet. I never understood why Balance wanted to keep things, and I knew some things were special to you. But I really didn’t understand until you started making me things.” His voice wavered as he said, “I don’t want to think about anything happening to these.”

“Okay,” Stinger replied, holding him close for a moment. “Okay.” He pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “But once all this crap is over and we’re living somewhere more permanent, we have to use these things. I will make us more.”

In the end, the compromise was keeping the afghan Stinger had made—gray and navy blue—for their bed, and adding the quilts to the crate. Only a few nights with the quilt his parents made, and then only one night with the quilt he had made.

Suddenly, he wanted the future he’d dreamt of to be here already.

He was tired of waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays everyone! Can you believe I started this story in March and it's still going? We are in the final countdown of episodes. I'm not sure how many updates that will be, but there will be some before the inevitable epilogue. :D
> 
> I am so thankful for all my loyal readers of this piece! Huge THANK YOU for continuing to support this piece! I'm excited that people are sticking with me and this ship, and that it's even inspired a few other writers out there! You all are the best and I could not do it without you! Thanks for all your suggestions, comments, and questions, both here and over on tumblr. I keep saying I have the best readers and I mean it!
> 
> I hope everyone has a restful holiday season and that your families are not too annoying or frustrating. (My birthday is a week from tomorrow... yikes.) Everyone have a great weekend and week. I'll update on tumblr if I think there might be an update to this before New Year's. Stay tuned!


	28. Through the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Stinger caught Jiro admitting to Kotarou that he was running low on food.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG, I'm back! This is set during episode 45, before the final Kyulette. Spoilers for episode 45. Here we go!

**28/ Through the Night**   
_The darkest nights produce the brightest stars._

Stinger had been, for lack of a better word, horrified to find out that Kotarou and Jiro’s grandfather had been out of town for three days, leaving seven-year-old Jiro to let himself in and out of the apartment before and after school, along with locking up at night and cooking for himself. He’d gritted his teeth and kept all comments about that arrangement to himself. Kotarou explained that their grandfather was an electrician, with a specialty in solar grids, and traveled around the world to help repair grids and restore power in Jark Matter-ravaged areas. Both boys seemed really proud of him, and Jiro was beyond insistent that he could manage and didn’t mind.

Then Stinger caught Jiro admitting to Kotarou that he was running low on food.

He was not standing for that.

“Kotarou,” Stinger said sternly. “Send a message to your grandfather. Jiro is staying on the ship with us until he gets back in town.”

“What about school?” Jiro asked.

“One of us will bring you to the surface and pick you up.”

“Doesn’t it take a long time?”

“To get to the surface? Not really.”

“I’ve never been in a spaceship before!” Jiro paused. “Can Naaga-nii take me in his Voyager?”

Stinger made a mental note that he’d have to tell Naaga that later. He was not even sure how Jiro conveyed the information in such a short amount of time, but Stinger learned that Jiro loved snakes, ramen and space. Emphasis on the snakes. Stinger had just taken the boys to a local pastry place and got them a sweet while he drank coffee, unable to shake the bad feeling about everything that had happened and was likely going to happen. Luckily, Kotarou just entertained Jiro with stories about being a Kyuuranger and being in space, while Jiro told him all about their grandfather, the school, and all the different snakes he’d found between the apartment and school. (And Jiro had seen Hebitsukai Voyager as the others took off for the ship, and his entire face lit up.)

Stinger sent a message to Naaga, simply asking when dinner would be.

He got a response almost immediately.

_Dinner is at the usual time._ So, six. _Why?_

_Jiro is staying on the ship for a while. Their grandfather is out of town._

He exhaled, and then asked, _What is Spada making for dinner?_

The response took longer, likely because Naaga needed to walk down to the galley and see exactly what Spada was cooking. (Spada was a great chef, for adults. He was hit or miss with food Kotarou would actually eat, although Kotarou usually ate anyways. Stinger used a combination of disappointment, warriors aren’t picky and well-timed glares. But Jiro seemed to have been living on cup ramen and other assorted things that could be heated and served. Oh, and Spada never announced the menu in advance.)

_Not food suitable for a child._

Stinger had to suppress a smile at that. Naaga had no concept of what was suitable food for a child—his entire experience with that was based on what he’d observed Kotarou liked or didn’t like. On his home world, Naaga had said, meals were nutritionally balanced and pretty bland. Everyone ate the exact same thing. Picky eaters or even just simple food preferences were not a thing that happened. Naaga rarely displayed a preference for a particular food, so him admitting he really liked grilled cheese had been one of those moments Stinger wanted to savor. Naaga had come so far.

_Can you make some grilled cheese, vegetables and fruit? We’ll be there for dinner._

_Yes. Are they allergic to anything?_

_No. They can eat anything._

“Come on,” Stinger said to the boys. “Let’s go get your school things and some clothes, and then we’ll head to the ship.”

“Can I take Jiro in my Voyager?” Kotarou asked excitedly.

“It will be better if he goes with me. You don’t need distractions.”

Kotarou looked disappointed with that, but brightened with, “Can Jiro stay in my room?”

“Yes, he can. When we get back, we’ll need to go to dinner, but then you can get an air mattress and Jiro can stay in your room.”

“Yay!”

The walk to the apartment from the pastry shop was fairly short. Kotarou pointed out things in the neighborhood—like the convenience store that everyone shopped for food at since Jark Matter shut down all major grocery stores and markets. They passed the school—one building for all grade levels that reminded Stinger of the school on his home planet. The governor’s house was now abandoned, but a local courthouse had reopened with the new leadership in the community. 

The apartment building was neat and appeared well maintained. The boys dashed ahead of Stinger up the stairs to a second floor unit, and Jiro produced a key to the apartment from an interior pocket of his vest. 

Inside the apartment was… neat but sparse. Stinger’s room on the ship used to look like this, and then he and Naaga moved into the same room and he started making things for them, and finally got comfortable enough in front of Naaga to not be fastidiously neat. His usual style was to keep his living spaces mostly neat with a large dose of organized chaos. He knew where everything was and didn’t bother to make his bed or put away his outerwear—no point, he’d be using it again soon. That exasperated Naaga, but to his credit, he didn’t put away Stinger’s things for him. And he would bluntly tell Stinger to put his stuff away when it finally got on his nerves.

Kotarou and Jiro were chattering happily and loudly. 

Which meant Stinger had to step in and make sure Jiro packed the essentials.

“You have your pajamas?”

“Yes.”

“Tootbrush?”

“Yes.”

“Underwear?”

“Aniki!” came a chorus.

He just gave them a level look.

Satisfied Jiro had packed what he needed, they set off, making sure the apartment was locked behind them. Jiro had his backpack with his things, that he insisted on carrying himself, and had a plush alligator clutched to his chest. The alligator looked as well-loved as Kotarou’s monkey. They got to an open field near the school, and summoned their Voyagers. Kotarou knew the drill and followed him back to the ship. They docked in the Voyager Bay with a few minutes to spare before dinner.

Kotarou seemed as excited to have Jiro on the ship as Jiro was to be there. He looked around with wide eyes, grabbing Kotarou’s hand as they made their way to the galley. Naaga must have given the others a heads-up, because no one seemed surprised to see Jiro walk into the galley. In fact, everyone greeted him and asked him questions about the trip here. 

“Hey,” Stinger said softly to Naaga, kissing him quickly.

Naaga responded, before saying, “I made grilled cheese and fruit salad. Spada was using most of the burners, so I couldn’t steam any vegetables.”

“It’s okay. We can give them sweet rolls later if they’re hungry. And they had cookies this afternoon, so they’ll be fine.”

“You bought them cookies?” Naaga guessed correctly.

“It’s cold on the surface, they wanted to chatter, and Jiro didn’t want to go home yet.” He paused, then, “So pastry shop.”

Naaga smiled fondly. He didn’t make a comment about Stinger caring. He brushed his hair out of his eyes, more than expressing that he found Stinger’s actions endearing.

“I’d have gotten you a cookie too,” he muttered, wrapping an arm around Naaga’s waist and pulling him close for a moment.

“I wouldn’t have wanted a cookie.”

“I know.” Stinger pressed a kiss to his cheek. “You would have wanted tea. Maybe a croissant.”

The inane conversation went nowhere and Stinger’s didn’t have a chance to steal anymore kisses, because Kotarou called at that moment, “Aniki! Come sit with us and Balance!”

“Naaga-nii!” Jiro added.

“Jiro really likes snakes and wants you to take him to school in Hebitsukai Voyager,” Stinger said in an undertone as they went to take their seats at the table.

Naaga looked surprised and pleased.

Dinner was relatively quiet. Stinger quickly found out that he shouldn’t have worried about Jiro not eating Spada’s food—he ate his grilled cheese, and then looked interested at the rest of the food, which included an odd assortment of leftovers, curry, pasta salad, sausage rolls and steamed vegetables. Hell, he ate some of everything without blinking and seemed to genuinely enjoy everything. Stinger put that away as leverage the next time Kotarou fussed about eating vegetables. _Kotarou, your little brother eats everything. Are you letting a seven year old surpass you?_ Well, he’d figure out the details later. Naaga pressed a little close to him once he was done eating. 

He knew what was going on.

Today was the first day they’d talked about what they wanted to do in the future. And not finding a place to live or getting married or starting a family. Actual jobs, aspirations, career paths, whatever anyone wanted to call those things. And Stinger had not been joking—he wanted to continue to fight, to help people. Too many terrible things had happened. He didn’t want another Mika or that village or his brother or his own planet. He felt so small compared to the vastness of the constellation systems, but someone had to care when no one else did.

He hadn’t been surprised that Balance talked about finding treasure with Naaga. Balance wouldn’t be able to stop stealing things if he tried, so Stinger was hoping that Naaga and Rebellion could steer him towards something else. Toppling remaining Jark Matter regimes, locating artifacts that were important to local people, digging up treasure… something that involved not flat-out stealing. He hadn’t said anything when Balance brought that up. Naaga would set him straight on that.

But then Naaga said what he wanted. Bringing emotions to the Ophiuchus System.

A pang had gone through Stinger’s chest at that. The Ophiuchus System had pushed and picked and then written off Naaga so much in the past two years. Naaga had clearly been different from them, so he left with Balance. And finally, after Akenba put him through hell, his home system wrote him off, told him to go find another system and they wouldn’t come after him. Fuck, they’d sent an assassin after him! He owed them nothing. Stinger would have turned his back and not looked back.

Perhaps he’d thought that was what Naaga was doing. He joined another constellation system, seemed genuinely interested in what was going on with the few officials and people left. Naaga had never said he didn’t want to go back to the Ophiuchus System. Because Naaga didn’t say, Stinger knew he just assumed that was what was going on.

And he’d been wrong.

The idea of Naaga attempting to contact anyone from the Ophiuchus System was terrifying. What if they detained him? Or put him in jail? Or put him through some reconditioning program that Naaga had talked about before? Stinger wanted Naaga in his life for a long time, forever, and couldn’t stand the thought of anything separating them. This was… reckless. Made his chest hurt. 

So when Naaga pressed close, he just wrapped an arm around his waist, kissing his temple.

After dinner, Stinger caught Kotarou and Jiro talking about him and Naaga.

“Why did Aniki kiss Naaga-nii?”

“Well, because they’re together.”

“Together?”

“Like Kaa-san and Tou-san.”

“Oh. So they’re in love?”

“Yeah.”

“Are they going to get married?”

“Yes, but we’re not supposed to know that. Balance said that they got engaged on Christmas, because that’s when they started wearing new rings on their left hands, which means those are engagement rings, but they haven’t officially told anyone that. So we’re pretending we don’t know.”

Jiro was still sorting through all that, when Stinger shooed them away from the cleaner and into the common area where the others were playing cards and talking. And he was so preoccupied with Naaga wanting to go to the Ophiuchus System that he didn’t spend more than a few seconds thinking about how all the others apparently knew they were engaged and hadn’t said anything.

In spite all his trepidation about Naaga wanting to introduce the Ophiuchus System to emotions, he still smiled a lot when he looked up from his datapad and saw that Jiro had climbed into Naaga’s lap, and they were looking at Jiro’s datapad. Whatever they were watching, Naaga was pointing something out and Jiro nodded animatedly, looking excited. 

He caught what they were watching when he walked behind them to go get some coffee. Snake documentary. Which Naaga had clearly seen before and apparently liked, because he was able to tell Jiro all kinds of things. He kissed the top of Naaga’s head. “You want some tea?” he asked softly.

Naaga nodded. “Are you drinking decaf?”

He suppressed an eyeroll. “Yes,” he replied. “Jiro, cocoa?”

The boy nodded enthusiastically. 

Putting Kotarou and Jiro to bed went better than just putting Kotarou to bed usually went. They both took their baths quickly, and then decided that they wanted to sleep in the same bed. (Which saved someone from going to find an air mattress.) Jiro wanted hugs from both Stinger and Naaga, and then the boys wanted a story read to them. Both of them were asleep before the story was over.

Back in their room, Naaga said softly, “You’re upset.”

Stinger shook his head slightly, slipping his jacket off and onto the back of his desk chair. Now that they actually could talk about the future plans, he didn’t want to. He changed the subject with, “You were good with Jiro this evening.”

Sometimes Naaga would not allow him to change the subject, but tonight he did. He shrugged a little, moving to take off his own jacket. “I just did what I saw you do with Kotarou.”

Mildly surprised, he asked, “Is Kotarou the first kid you’ve interacted with?”

“No. Not exactly. Mentoring school-age children is a mandatory part of higher education and training in the Ophiuchus System.”

“That sounds… formal.”

“It is.” Another shrug. “Children there don’t act like children other places.”

“I imagine.”

“Did you interact with kids on your home planet?”

Stinger moved to take off his boots and scarf. “Sure. The village all sort of took responsibility for looking after the kids.” A lot of the children had been evacuated before Scorpio landed and attacked, but the ones that remained… he didn’t like to think about that.

“Have you held a baby before?” 

Stinger looked up from where he had finished taking off his boots and socks. Naaga was removing his own shoes, and then moving to pull sleep clothes from the chest of drawers. Looking away. Flustered. Something was going on here.

“Yes,” he replied simply, thinking of the times he’d been handed a baby because someone was multi-tasking or needed to attend to something urgently, and he ended up bouncing a baby for a while. Sometimes feeding the baby. Hell, Makino-baachan had some of the village babies she watched on a regular basis, and he’d played with them, changed their diapers, fed them. 

Quietly, “I’ve never held a baby before.”

Stinger couldn’t stop himself from saying gently, “You named our future child and you’ve never held a baby before?”

Naaga flushed a little. “Infants and toddlers were raised in a nurturing center. Children aren’t placed with a family until age four.”

He internally swore a little. He crossed the room to Naaga, taking the clothes out of his hands and setting them on the bed. He wrapped his arms around Naaga’s waist, holding him close. Naaga’s arms went around his shoulders and he exhaled heavily against his neck. Stinger rubbed his back a little, keeping him close as he whispered, “Lots of people have kids without interacting with them first. They figure everything out.”

Naaga sighed.

“Nothing is set in stone, Naaga,” he whispered. “I think we need to not be living on a spaceship and then actually get married, and then talk about kids.”

Interesting that in his dreams, he was always the one hesitant about the future children, and Naaga eased into parenting gracefully. Dammit, had all the talk about the future made Naaga nervous about that particular aspect?

Naaga pulled back a little, thumb tracing his cheekbone. “I’m marrying you and I said I wanted children.” He paused, then pressed a long kiss to Stinger’s lips. He held on for as long as he could without deepening the kiss. “I just need to read more about babies.”

Stinger smiled. There was Naaga. Read about something and get scientific. 

Naaga’s thumb was stroking across his cheek.

“Are you upset about what I said earlier?” Stinger didn’t reply, just tightened his grip on him. At the silence, Naaga added, “About bringing emotions to the Ophiuchus System?”

“I’m not upset,” he replied softly. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I won’t get hurt,” Naaga said softly and earnestly. “There’s not even a good chance I could get a visa to travel there. But I want to try.”

“And if you get there? What then?”

“I don’t know. But there has to be others like me, that don’t fit in but don’t say anything.”

“Naaga, they could detain you. Hurt you. Try to recondition you!”

“What about you? Continuing to fight? You could get hurt or killed at any moment.”

“That’s not the same thing. I’m not putting myself in a dangerous situation.”

“Yes, you are.”

“It’s—” Stinger cut himself off, still holding Naaga. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Me either,” Naaga mumbled.

“We’re tired and on edge, and I am seriously pissed off about Kotarou and Jiro’s grandfather.” He let out a long breath. “And the Commander wants us on the bridge first thing in the morning to decide who’s going down to the surface.”

“I know,” Naaga breathed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

“Me too.”

“Can we talk about it after we’ve had more sleep?”

He nodded, threading one hand through Naaga’s hair and kissing him soundly. Naaga gasped into the kiss, fingers tightening behind his neck, fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. He surged forward, catching Naaga off balance and they fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Naaga made a small oof noise as he landed, taking only a second to adjust before he affectionately brushed Stinger’s hair out of his eyes, wrapping his arms around his neck and pulling him close to finish what they started. What started out innocently enough ended up deep and bruising. Naaga’s mouth was hot and perfect and he tasted like always, cool water and clean air. 

Stinger didn’t want to think about what they’d said their future plans were, because he knew that was just going to end in an argument. He wanted to keep kissing Naaga and sleep and then get Jiro to school in the morning. (And put some dry goods and leftovers from their kitchen at his grandfather’s apartment after he got to school.) He wanted something concrete, something where he could actually make a difference. Everything with Jark Matter seemed too big, like they’d never make a difference. They had to try, because, if for no other reason, he desperately wanted a future with Naaga. He wanted Jark Matter gone so they could argue about this.

Argue about this. Gods, he wanted to have the luxury of arguing about who’s plan was stupider and no one would cave and then they’d agree to respect each other’s wishes. 

He must have seemed distracted, because Naaga pulled back from the kiss, fingers tracing his jaw. “What’s wrong?” he asked softly.

“Nothing,” Stinger lied, but Naaga didn’t call him on the obvious untruth. He sat up and reached over to the nightstand. He pulled out a small bag. Naaga sat up too, frowning a little. He pulled two leather braided bracelets out of the bag. Naaga’s thumb traced the leather on one and then the silver pendant in the middle. He paused at the orange gem, looking at Stinger questioningly.

“Khyber,” he murmured. “Gems from the hearts of stars.”

“Where did you get that?” Naaga breathed.

“My family’s things. It was in with some other jewelry and trinkets.” He slipped one of the bracelets around Naaga’s wrist. “Each gem has a slightly different signature. I split one gem for these bracelets.”

“So we can always find each other,” Naaga said softly.

“Yes.” His voice was little more than a whisper.

Naaga pulled him close, kissing him long and hard. “I love you, Stinger,” he murmured. “No matter what, always. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he replied. Naaga slipped the other bracelet onto his wrist. “I love you too.”

Naaga was gazing at him searchingly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“No, but on top of everything else, turns out everyone knows we’re engaged.”

The glower on Naaga was fucking adorable. “Balance,” he muttered.

Stinger kissed him briefly, suppressing a smile. “Let’s go to bed.”

Naaga pulled his pajamas out from underneath him. “I was working on that,” he replied mildly.

Soon enough, they were under the covers in the darkened room. He had to keep telling himself that nothing would happen, not with Don Armage or Jark Matter, or when Naaga tried to go back to the Ophiuchus System, or when he kept fighting. They would be fine. They had to be. He had too much to lose now.

\------------------

This was a dream. And still…

He was in a holding cell in the Moraimazuu, wearing the same clothes as he had on the day he went to face his brother. This wasn’t right. There was no venom pumping through his veins. He hadn’t used Antares. What was going on? He tried to peer through the bars, craning his neck more when he heard footsteps echoing in the chamber.

His brother appeared in the hallway. Not the monstrous form Jark Matter had given him, but the familiar figure of his big brother. He was dragging someone… Stinger’s heart hammered, breath stopping when he realized who his brother was dragging.

“Naaga!” he damn-near screamed.

Naaga was injured, bruised and bloody, clothes ripped. His brother was holding him by the back of his shirt, as Naaga didn’t look like he could walk anymore. The heavy door screeched open and his brother shoved Naaga into the cell with him.

“Naaga,” he breathed, starting to scramble towards him.

But his brother grabbed a handful of Naaga’s hair, yanking him to his knees.

“I told you, Stinger,” his brother sneered. “I’d find your little lover and kill him in all the ways you fear.”

“Aniki, stop!” he cried.

His brother let go and Naaga crumbled to the floor.

Stinger crawled the small distance to him, pulling Naaga into his arms. Naaga was wheezing, unable to breath properly.

“Falling in love makes you weak,” his brother snapped.

There was too much blood. 

His brother moved as if he was going to hit Naaga again, and Stinger threw himself in between. His brother’s fist connected with his jaw and he went sprawling against the floor. He barely registered the pain, moving as quickly as he could in his stunned state, putting himself between Naaga and his brother.

“Stinger,” Naaga choked out, and then he started to cough.

He damn near forgot about his brother as he turned back to Naaga. The cough was wet and he spat out blood when the cough passed. Dammit, this was bad. And his fault. He couldn’t even protect Naaga from his brother.

“Naaga, hang on,” he said quickly. “You’ll be okay.”

“Don’t lie to him,” his brother snapped. “He’s dying here and so are you.”

And his brother was gone, and he was left holding Naaga, listening to the terrible noises coming out of him, and wishing this was him instead.

The dream faded.

He was standing on a transport pad, cupping Naaga’s face, trying to steady his own breathing. Naaga’s hands were on his wrists, rubbing his skin, comforting him. “It will be fine, Stinger,” Naaga was saying. “Only a few days and then I’ll be home. Just a first mission there.”

“I know. Call me.”

“Every day,” Naaga whispered, then smiled a little. “Multiple times.”

“Naaga, what if—”

“I’ll have a Rebellion team with me. Nothing will happen. I’m not a member of that system anymore. It’s just to start a diplomatic mission.”

Stinger couldn’t shake the fear that the Ophiuchus System would take the opportunity to detain Naaga, grab him back. Word from other missions were that they weren’t happy to have let Naaga go in the first place. They’d been married for a year, were talking about adopting a child. He wanted their lives to move forward. But this was something that Naaga felt like he had to do.

Somehow, he knew that time had passed.

He was back on the transport pad. The mission team came off the transport one by one, but Naaga was not with them. The pilot shook his head.

More time passed.

“Stinger, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Balance, you broke into the colony once. Show me how!”

“That won’t work.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they’ve fixed all the weak spots, the places I exploited the last time. And that was years ago.” Balance shook his head sadly. “They won’t let you on the planet. And they won’t let any messages get through to Naaga.”

“I have to try. He’s in there. They might have locked him away, but he’ll know me.”

“If you could get face time with him, but they will shoot you on sight.”

“Balance… please.”

“Stinger, no. You will die trying.” Balance patted his shoulder. “I want Naaga back too. He’s my best friend—the best friend I ever had.” He paused, the sorrow rolling off him. “But this? I have tangled with the Ophiuchus System before. You have to do this the official way.”

“Balance… I can’t… not without him.”

“I know, pal. I know.”

“Stinger!”

Somehow his name was different and broke through the haze of heartbreaking dreams. He blinked awake, focusing on the dim room around him. Just their room on the ship. His cheeks felt wet. He’d been sobbing in the dreams and clearly started to sob in his sleep. He tried to focus on Naaga, whose hands were on his shoulders.

“You’re awake,” Naaga breathed, sounding relieved.

The dreams were too close to his fears.

Fuck, there was no way he was having a rational conversation about it. Not right now.

He shifted away from Naaga, moving out from under the covers and out of bed.

“Stinger?”

“I just need some air. I’m just going to the galley. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Naaga—”

“You’re not all right,” Naaga said, getting out of bed quickly and rounding the bed to him. “You were crying in your sleep.”

“I can’t talk about this right now.”

“Stinger—”

“Naaga, please, don’t push this.”

He left the room, and should have expected Naaga to follow him. “Is this about earlier?” Naaga asked as they walked down the hall. “About me going back to the Ophiuchus System?”

“No,” he snapped, just because he wanted the conversation to be over.

“Don’t lie about this,” Naaga pleaded, sounding desperate.

Stinger turned on his heel, facing Naaga. “Fine, that’s exactly what this is about!” he hissed.

“Stinger, I don’t know how any of that will work yet! We’re still fighting Jark Matter and those were all things in the future! We have to defeat Don Armage and work on rebuilding the galaxy first.”

“It’s not you,” he replied, defeated. “It’s me. I can’t imagine a scenario in which anything turns out well.” He raked a hand through his hair. “I am so afraid of losing you… of losing everything.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s happened to me before!”

“That doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again.”

“How do you know that? We can’t know that.” He crumbled to the floor, on his knees. Hot tears fell down his cheeks. Naaga sank to the floor with him, a hand on his shoulder. “My whole life has come apart before and I’ve made awful choices. I’m trying, but it’s all so much. And now with Don Armage and Tsurugi probably dying, and I can’t figure out how we’re going to be alive tomorrow—”

“Stinger,” Naaga interrupted gently. “You need to breath.”

“I’m so tired,” he whispered.

“I know.” 

“Aniki?” They both turned. He’d half been expecting Kotarou, but instead, Jiro was there. He looked worried as he stepped closer to them. “Are you okay?”

Stinger wiped away the tears quickly, clearing his throat. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Jiro stepped into his space, wrapping his arms around his neck in a hug. Stinger patted his back. “Jii-chan says it’s okay to be scared,” he said. “Even grown-ups get scared.”

“They do.” He eased Jiro away from him a little. “Why are you awake? You need something.”

“Water?”

Naaga stood up, helping Stinger to his feet, then Jiro. “We’re going to the galley. We can get you some water there.”

Jiro was quiet as they went to the galley, and as he drank his water. Stinger settled onto one of the couches and Jiro climbed up, pressing next to his side. He wrapped an arm around the kid. He had a feeling Jirou missed his grandfather and enjoyed any small comfort. After a few minutes, Jiro yawned, and Stinger shooed him back to bed. He wanted hugs from both him and Naaga before he went, which both of them gave him.

“Jiro’s right,” Naaga said softly.

“What?”

“It’s okay to be scared.”

“Naaga,” he breathed, standing up and crossing the room to him. He pulled him close. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” Naaga rested his hands over his own, pressing his forehead to his. “This is a lot. Let’s get through the next few days, and then we’ll talk about it.”

“One thing at a thing?” he asked wryly. 

“Yes.” Naaga smiled, rubbing a thumb over his bracelet. “You made these so we’d always be able to find each other. Remember that.”

Stinger just closed the small space between them, pressing a long kiss to Naaga’s lips. He was so tired and so afraid, and he just wanted Naaga close to him. 

Back in their room, Naaga didn’t question how he left the lamp on the nightstand on, and how he pulled him close, wrapping an arm around his waist and tucking his head under his chin. He didn’t want the morning to come, but that wasn’t an option. So he snuggled as close to Naaga as possible, listening to his steady breathing and his heartbeat, wondering if he was doomed to ultimately lose everything he loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm running just a little bit behind on this chapter - has it really been a month since the last chapter? Do we really only have two episodes left in this season? Time flies, huh! Given the two episodes left, there will be 1-2 more chapters before the inevitable epilogue. :D 
> 
> As always, giant shout-out to all my readers! Thanks for continuing to read, kudos and comment! Your comments mean the world to me. Thanks for all your encouragement and appreciation! This story could not happen without you! Let me know you're out there once in a while, either here or on tumblr!
> 
> I'm musing through my unfinished Kyuuranger fics, plus I have my Ranger Romance assignments to finish up, and had a brilliant idea for a Scorpio fic... so stay tuned! Everyone have a fabulous week!


	29. Shine Grateful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were currently in a heap on the floor, hot and sticky, breathing still uneven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! Last chapter before the epilogue! Set during episode 47 and episode 48, spoilers therein. Watch before you read. Enjoy!

**29/ Shine Grateful**   
_Look how they shine for you._

They were currently in a heap on the floor, hot and sticky, breathing still uneven. Hell, they hadn’t even bothered to take all their clothes off. When was the last time that had happened? Stinger couldn’t remember. He raised his head from Naaga’s shoulder, gently pushing his hair out of his eyes. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”

Naaga nodded, but his expression was troubled.

All of them felt that way. Don Armage had possessed Tsurugi, using the immortality of the Houou Kyuutama to absorb planesium without a Moraimazuu. He could, literally, destroy the entire universe just by draining the Earth of planesium and converting it into Dark Planesium. This was too much, and then Lucky doubting that they would help him? After all this time, all these fights together, Stinger was a little dismayed that Lucky would believe they wouldn’t do for him what he’d done for them dozens of times. He’d talked to Champ and Kotarou, and they were fighting. He suspected that all of them were fighting. Naaga had said as much about him and Balance when they got back to their room. 

This could be the last time they were together—their time left could be mere hours. He wanted Naaga as close to him as possible, and didn’t want to wait. So… the floor. Naaga hadn’t minded, in fact, he’d been damned enthusiastic about everything.

But this was getting uncomfortable, and Naaga shivered against him.

Stinger reached up enough to pull the extra blanket off the bed and then pushed himself off Naaga, settling on his side. He covered their middles with the blanket and Naaga curled against him. He took stock of where they were. The only things they’d gotten off were their jackets and blasters. Hell, he still had his boots on, and Naaga still had on one shoe. His pants were undone, sliding down his hips, and his shirt and scarf clung to him with sweat. Naaga’s shirt was rumpled and in no better shape than his, and his pants and shorts were still around one leg (leaving his other leg and ass tantalizingly bare.) He slid an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him close.

They were quiet, not much more left to say, until Naaga asked softly, “Can we do that again?”

Stinger gently traced his cheekbone. Gods, he loved him so much. “As many times as you want,” he replied, kissing him soundly. When they broke apart, he added, “But we need to get on the bed. I don’t think that was fun for your back, and it’s cold down here.”

Naaga shrugged. “I want you to fuck me more.”

Stinger stared at him for a long moment, and then pulled him into a bruising kiss, practically ravishing his mouth. Naaga swore so infrequently that Stinger always forgot how _hot_ listening to him swear was. Gods, if he could get Naaga to go on a swearing rant, Stinger would do whatever he wanted in bed and then some.

He rested his forehead against Naaga’s, breathing heavily. He wanted to hope, wanted to believe that they’d have more time, all the time they wanted. They’d get the future he wanted, and argue about ridiculous things. But the Houou Kyuutama… Tsurugi had been practically immortal from the effects of that particular Kyuutama and he could not imagine how much more powerful that made Don Armage. Time was running out and, as much as he wanted to believe Lucky had a plan, he was not sure any plan was going to allow them to survive. Even if they survived, who wanted to live in a devastated world with only them? He could not imagine a scenario where they survived and, yet, he had to try. He’d spent the last year building so much. 

He pressed another kiss to Naaga’s lips. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too,” was the breathy response. When Stinger pulled him closer, he added, “I thought you wanted to move to the bed?”

In spite of all his fear, he groaned theatrically. “I did,” he agreed. 

He pressed a kiss to Naaga’s lips and then released him, rolling slowly to sit up and then to his feet. Naaga just watched him under hooded eyelids. He stripped off his shirt and scarf, and tossed them with their laundry. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he removed his boots and socks. Naaga remained on the floor, under the blanket, watching him. Distractions, right? Wasn’t that what Naaga told him a long time ago, when he was stuck at Rebellion HQ?

“Like what you see?” he murmured.

Naaga nodded, biting his lip a little, eyeing him from head to toe.

Stinger stood up, pushing his pants and shorts down and off. He sat back down on the bed, eyeing Naaga hungrily. “You joining me?”

A slight smile and then Naaga sat up a bit, removing his remaining shoe and then socks. He pulled off his shirt, and then finished kicking off his pants and shorts. He stood up a little shyly, keeping the blanket in front of him and grabbing the lube that had been abandoned on the floor. Cheeks flushed red, he threw the blanket over the footlocker, and then fluidly got a knee on the bed, going to straddle Stinger’s lap. He dropped the lube on the bed and then, his hands threaded through the hair at the nape of Stinger’s neck, and he leaned down, brushing his lips against Stinger’s. 

Stinger wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling them both fully on the bed. Naaga settled fully into his lap. They were just breathing for a moment.

“I don’t want this to end,” Naaga whispered.

“Me either.”

“I’m scared.”

“I know.” He rubbed Naaga’s back, holding him close. “I am too.”

Voice soft and a little desperate, “Is there any way we can win?”

“I don’t know.” And very softly, “I hope so.”

Naaga’s voice was almost inaudible when he said, “I wanted to get married.” He sighed, face pressed to Stinger’s shoulder. “Find our home.”

For some reason, that last statement resonated with Stinger. He felt a pang shoot straight down to his stomach. He fully wrapped both arms around Naaga’s waist, pulling them completely flush. He could feel Naaga’s erratic heartbeat against his chest, skin hot and flushed. He knew his own breathing was unsteady and he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Gods, he wanted to cry right now, but didn’t want to waste any time. “I wanted the future too,” he whispered.

He raised a hand, threading his fingers through Naaga’s hair, angling him for a deep, messy kiss. Naaga responded eagerly, mewling beautifully into the kiss, hips hitching in his lap. He ground his hips upward, feeling Naaga’s answering interest. They usually left a little more time between rounds, but both of them were on edge and, hell, Naaga said he wanted him to fuck him. (Gods, that was still so hot.) “Stinger,” Naaga breathed against his lips. 

Grabbing the lube, Naaga backed up a little and poured some over his cock. As he reached between their bodies and stroked him, he groaned, deep in the back of his throat, flushing creeping down to his neck and cock hardening beneath Naaga’s hand.

He made another noise, lifting Naaga a little and adjusting him in his lap.

“I love you,” Naaga murmured, voice a little desperate, rising at the end on a whine. Stinger stroke Naaga back to hardness, enjoying the way he writhed against him. All that smooth, gorgeous skin that he wanted to kiss, run his tongue along. He lowered his head, pressing kisses against Naaga’s shoulder and his collarbone, finally finding a spot to latch on, sucking a mark. His hands were all over Naaga’s back, one hand slipping down to his ass. “Oh, Stinger,” Naaga whispered, hands running on his neck and shoulders, one thumb running over his cheekbone.

“Hmm, Naaga,” he replied. Naaga shifted in his lap, grasping him and lining himself up. They both were making incoherent noises as Naaga sank down, fully seated in his lap.

Stinger looked up, threading one hand through Naaga’s hair. His thumb stroked over his cheek as he took in that damned eerie clear gaze. How often had he thought about how Naaga could see right through him? Knew when he was lying or omitting something? Knew when he was in pain or upset and trying to hide it? And he knew just as much about Naaga. He got irritable when his routine got interrupted, especially if he didn’t get to eat meals when he normally did. He liked quiet moments, wasn’t prone to idle chitchat. But he wanted to know more. Entire evenings between them had been spent in a very comfortable silence or with Naaga asking questions about a topic (relationships, celebrations, anything he could think of) and Stinger answering as best he could. Sometimes he was multi-tasking. But he worked on his projects in front of Naaga now, didn’t feel like he needed to be fastidiously neat.

And honestly? Naaga had come so far. Stinger liked seeing the small, quiet smile that would appear on his face when he was happy or content or found something endearing. He was so pleased when someone asked him questions about a subject. (Tsurugi may or may not have asked him how to disable a security system, and Naaga was so detailed and enthusiastic that Tsurugi didn’t have the heart to cut him off. Gods, Tsurugi…) And he knew because Naaga had come so far, he wanted to share what he had learned with the Ophiuchus System. Naaga was… fucking perfect for that. Stinger would find a way to be okay with that. He would.

If tomorrow actually arrived.

Naaga moved his hips a little. “Come on, Stinger.”

“Whatever you want, baby.”

Stinger wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, getting them both comfortable enough to start a fast rhythm. Naaga’s head was thrown back, pupils blown wide with pleasure. Gods, Stinger would never get over how beautiful he looked like this and he wanted to savor every moment. The flush that spread from his cheeks down to his chest. The way his lips parted just a little. The noises that came out of him. The way his hair was beautiful and mussed. 

This was heat and perfection and he didn’t want this to end.

Naaga’s head dropped onto his shoulder, breath hot against his skin and his teeth scraping against his skin.

Then Stinger felt sharp pricks of pain in his shoulder. Not bad, definitely very tolerable. But unexpected. He glanced down, one hand cradling Naaga’s head. Yeah, that was very much Naaga. He’d always known that Naaga had fangs and a snake tongue and other snake features. He hardly ever brought them out, and he’d come to the conclusion that Naaga didn’t consciously know how to bring out those things. He felt a slight tingle that could have been venom, which, again, they didn’t know for sure that he had or not. He wasn’t worried about that—his people had very high tolerance for venom and toxins of all kinds.

“Naaga,” he said, trying to get his attention, fingers in his hair.

Naaga released him, and still looked lost in pleasure. Well, Stinger wasn’t worried about anything that just happened, attention focused back on wanting to fuck Naaga as hard as possible. “You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growled, punctuating the phrase with a quick thrust and Naaga moaned loudly. They were hitting something Naaga liked, a lot.

“Stinger, I’m—” But that was all Naaga got out before he came hard between their bodies.

Stinger nuzzled his neck, following him over the edge, coming deep inside him.

The room around them was quiet and hot as they came down.

But the peaceful moment didn’t last long.

Naaga suddenly sat up, moving so suddenly that Stinger pulled out. His eyes were wide and a little panicked. “Stinger,” he was saying quickly and rushed. “You’re bleeding. I am so sorry. I’ll—”

But the situation was ridiculous. They were both naked and sweaty, and Naaga’s hair was a complete mess (and Stinger knew he didn’t look any better.) He started laughing.

Naaga froze, completely baffled by his reaction.

“I’m sorry,” he said, “come here.” He glanced at his shoulder. “This is just a scratch.”

“It’s bleeding!”

“Not really.”

Naaga still looked panicky. Stinger grabbed his wrist, pulling him back into his arms. He tried to soothe him, rubbing his back, singing a little. He could feel Naaga shaking, and that was not from what they had just been doing.

“Will you let me clean it?”

“Compromise. Let’s shower, see how it looks then.” 

“Okay.” Naaga’s expression was anxious. “Stinger, I’m—”

“Do not apologize again. I actually kind of liked that.”

Naaga did not look convinced, but allowed Stinger to lead him into the bathroom.

The shower was nice, familiar and warm, even if Naaga was jittery. He’d come to love the familiarity of moments like this. The warm water, the way they would take turns washing each other. He loved every moment. He washed Naaga’s hair and then let Naaga fuss over cleaning his shoulder. (Which only stung a little—honestly, the bite was not a problem. In the back of his mind, he wondered if he should be more upset about that. Then again, he’d been wondering for a while if Naaga was interested in figuring out more of the snake characteristics.)

“You should still go to the infirmary.”

“Maybe.”

“Stinger.”

“Naaga?”

The expression on Naaga’s face was amusing to Stinger, but he kept his face neutral. Naaga looked truly distressed at the response, gently poking his side. “Don’t do that,” he whined. “This is serious.”

“It’s not serious.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Naaga—”

“Please?”

“Okay,” he relented. “Fine. If it makes you happy, I will go to the infirmary.”

Naaga stepped into his space, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling them close. Stinger returned the embrace, rubbing his back. Naaga sighed, sounding tired and stressed. He wasn’t really worried about what happened during sex. Stinger knew that. But Naaga was focusing on something he could fix, something he could worry over. And, hell, Stinger was just going to let him.

They got out of the shower, dried off and dressed. Stinger put on the pants he usually slept in and a tank top, then threw on his sweater. The bite mark wasn’t even bleeding anymore. Naaga was wearing entirely clothes that Stinger made for him, and he didn’t really think that was a coincidence right now. 

He took Naaga’s hand, threading their fingers together as they walked down the silent hallway. He almost thought Raptor might not be there. Everyone had retreated to their own corners after talking to Lucky on the bridge and after everything that happened today. Finding anyone was going to be a challenge. But Raptor was in the infirmary. And, weirdly, Spada was there. Stinger decided not to think about that one too hard.

“Are you guys okay?” she asked

“Yeah,” Stinger replied. “I just need you to look at something.”

He shrugged his sweater off one shoulder. Raptor went to work, didn’t question what happened, which Stinger appreciated about her.

Naaga, on the other hand, seemed to fall apart even more. Stinger was sitting on the edge of an infirmary bed, and Naaga cuddled up against his opposing side, head on his shoulder. And then Stinger felt Naaga’s body begin to shake with silent sobs. He wrapped his arm around Naaga’s shoulders, holding him close, and Naaga pressed his face to his shoulder. He felt Naaga’s arms wrap around his waist, and Naaga’s legs were pulled to his chest. 

“Everything is fine,” Raptor said. “No infection. I’ll just give you some antiseptic and a bandage.” She paused as she looked at her datapad. “There were some very low levels of toxin around the wound.”

That made Naaga make a distressed noise and try to burrow closer to him.

“Like venom?”

Raptor nodded. “Very mild.”

“How mild?”

“I’d say a fraction of a percentage of your venom.”

“Oh.”

“At any rate,” Raptor said. “You’re fine.” She turned to Naaga. “Hold out your hand.” He did, shaking, and she did a quick test strip. (Seriously, how did she put together what happened and then didn’t say anything?) “You’re fine too,” she told him.

Naaga was completely out of it, and not really willing to communicate. He was silently sobbing against Stinger’s shoulder. He rubbed his shoulder as Raptor bandaged him.

Spada had been hovering near the supply cabinet, and edged over. “Is he okay?” he asked Stinger in an undertone.

“Naaga is fine,” Stinger replied, deliberately speaking just a little louder. “He just needs to wash his face, drink some tea, and go to bed.”

Luckily, that roused Naaga a little. Stinger kissed his cheek, and then Naaga unfolded himself, moving slowly to the bathroom in the infirmary. He shut the door behind him, and Stinger heard water running. Spada clapped his good shoulder.

“Are you okay?” Spada asked.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice suddenly rough. “Are you?”

Spada shrugged. “Not really. But…” he trailed off. “It’s never been this bad before, huh?”

“No.” Stinger pushed out a long breath. “I said once I’m not giving up. And I’m not.”

Spada nodded, looking distant. “We always have to try, right?”

Stinger inhaled sharply.

Naaga came out of the bathroom. He still looked shaky, eyes red, but he’d definitely washed his face and seemed steadier. Stinger pushed himself off the edge of the bed, and pulled Naaga close to him, one hand on his waist. He pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Come on,” he whispered, reaching down to take his hand. Naaga was holding on just a little too tight, but Stinger didn’t mind. He led him down the hallway to the dark galley, lit only by emergency lights.

“Sweet roll?” he asked softly.

Naaga shook his head.

“You didn’t eat dinner,” Stinger admonished gently. He stepped into Naaga’s space, cupping his cheek, other hand on his waist. “You need something.”

“You didn’t really eat dinner either,” Naaga protested.

“So I’ll eat one too.” He nudged him. “Come on. Please?”

A small nod finally came. Stinger kissed him, hanging on for more.

In a few minutes, they had tea and sweet rolls. 

They were quiet as they ate. Only a short amount of time remained before Don Armage completely restored his new body… Tsurugi’s body… He couldn’t really think. Just knew that he was going along with whatever stupid, last-ditch plan that Lucky had. Hell, all of them were. He wasn’t giving up and he knew they had to try something. Even if that something got them killed. And yet… that small sliver of hope. Their constellation systems believed in them. The whole universe believed in them. And Spada was right, they had to try something.

But, gods, he wanted to savor every last moment he might have with Naaga.

They put up their dishes and went back to their room. The comfortable silence continued as they put fresh sheets on the bed, and then pulled back the covers. Naaga still looked troubled, beyond the terrible situation they currently found themselves in.

“What’s wrong?”

Naaga let out a shaky breath. “We never got to finish talking.”

Stinger narrowed his eyes. “About?”

“Our future plans.”

“Naaga,” he breathed, rounding the bed to him and pulling him into his arms. “That’s what you’re worried about?”

Naaga exhaled against his neck. “You were angry.”

“I wasn’t angry,” Stinger said slowly, keeping his voice neutral. “I was frustrated because I was scared for you.”

“You said—”

“I know what I said. But here’s the thing.” He eased Naaga away from him, catching his gaze. “I looked up diplomatic missions, especially for people who recently became members of new constellation systems. Turns out, doesn’t matter if you were a member of their system. They can’t keep you there. And we can retrieve you by force, if needed.”

Naaga’s voice was very small when he said, “I thought it might be too much for you.”

“Other than me planning a back-up plan to rescue you, no, it’s really not.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore.”

Stinger was stunned and a little hurt. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was worried and… scared.”

“Naaga, baby,” he breathed, pulling him close and wrapping his arms around him. Naaga clung to him, breathing unsteady and harsh. “I’m not leaving you. Especially not over something like that.” He murmured, “Relationships take work. I know you have dreams. I need to support you, not be a paranoid asshole about everything.”

“Are you saying I should be mad at you?”

“Frustrated, at least.”

“You were scared.”

“You can still be frustrated with me.” Softer, “I am not leaving you. Ever.”

The alert on his Seiza Blaster interrupted them. “That’s Kotarou,” he commented.

“Didn’t you already put him to bed?”

“Yes, but he’s likely awake.” Stinger released Naaga and picked up his blaster. The message was simple and a little heartbreaking. Stinger looked up at Naaga. “Kotarou is scared and wants to know if he can sleep in our bed tonight.”

Naaga nodded. “That’s okay. I’ll get an extra blanket.”

Stinger responded to the message, letting Kotarou know to come down here. Naaga opened the footlocker and located the blanket he wanted. As he straightened and closed the footlocker, Stinger caught him by the waist. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too.”

Kotarou knocked on the door and Stinger let him in. He was wearing his pajamas and clutching his stuffed monkey.

They got settled into bed, Kotarou between them. Once they were settled into bed, Kotarou fell asleep almost immediately. In the low light, Stinger reached out, gently stroking Naaga’s cheekbone. He raised a hand, covering Stinger’s. 

He wanted to have hope, he wanted to believe.

Gods, he wanted tomorrow.

\--------------------

Don Armage was gone.

Somehow, the thought didn’t seem real. All this time, all this struggle—three hundred damn years of war because of him—and he was finally gone. Reality as they knew it had changed and Stinger was not sure how to process. Happiness? Joy? Sure, but the overwhelming sense of responsibility. They needed to rebuild, figure out some sort of leadership. That was daunting. The Commander had ordered them back to the Orion to have their injuries treated and get some sleep. They’d regroup tomorrow afternoon.

Which was how Stinger found himself in the infirmary, watching Naaga be a complete and utter pain in the ass about having his hand treated. Long story short, Naaga had broken his left hand sometime during the battle. The injury was easy enough to treat, but because his fingers were swollen, his engagement ring was stuck on his finger. Raptor wanted to cut the ring off and continue treating him, but Naaga was now refusing to let her even see his hand. So she’d called Stinger and now he was trying to reason with Naaga.

“Naaga, I can fix the ring.”

“No. It won’t be the same.”

“You need to treat your hand. Raptor can cut it off and I’ll go fix it, so by the time your hand is better, the ring will be good as new.”

“But what about the etching in it?”

“I can fix that too.”

“It won’t be the same.”

“I’ll make us new rings then.”

“But these are the engagement rings!”

Stinger was cupping Naaga’s face. “Naaga, you need to let Raptor treat you.”

And then Naaga started crying. _Shit._

“Baby, come on,” he tried to comfort him. “You’re in pain, and you’ll feel better once Raptor fixes the broken bones and give you pain meds.”

“But these rings are really special,” Naaga was hiccupping. 

“It’s just a symbol. I don’t need a ring to symbolize how we feel about each other.”

“I don’t want the ring messed up!”

Raptor had her personal datapad out now and was surreptitiously glancing at them while taking notes. Dammit, he always forgot that she wrote stories about them. He didn’t care, because she never showed those stories to people, but she was definitely writing down this ridiculous conversation.

Naaga wasn’t going to budge. 

Keeping an arm around Naaga’s waist and letting Naaga press his face to his chest, Stinger sent Spada a message.

_Can you bring a bowl of ice to the infirmary?_

_How big a bowl?_

_Enough to stick someone’s hand in._

“We’ll try something else first,” Stinger told Naaga, rubbing his back. “But if it doesn’t work, you have to let Raptor cut the ring off. We have to treat your hand.”

“No,” Naaga sobbed against his chest.

When Naaga decided to be upset, he was _upset_. Listening to his harsh sobs was heartbreaking, and Stinger responded by holding him more tightly. He was in pain, sure, but this was something more. Naaga was practical, he understood what needed to happen here. Everything was so fragile, figuring out how to move forward. Was Naaga clinging to their engagement rings because that was the anchor point that he was using for their future?

Luckily, Spada got to the infirmary quickly.

Stinger got Naaga to take his broken hand out of his jacket, and he winced at the bruising and swelling. He sat down on the bed across from Naaga, and accepted the bowl of ice from Spada. (Spada, thankfully, did not question the chaos in the infirmary, just handed him the ice.) Spada smiled at Raptor, which made her trip over a cart of supplies. (Gods, did Hame and Raptor have a thing for Spada because he could cook or something? He decided not to think about that too hard.)

He gently had Naaga stick his hand in the bowl and covered it as best he could with the ice.

“Hopefully, this will make the swelling go down,” he explained.

Naaga nodded, face still red and blotchy. Stinger reached out, wiping away from of the tears.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered.

Naaga didn’t look convinced, but at least he wasn’t crying anymore.

“I’m putting out some food in the galley,” Spada said conversationally, drawing their attention away from the current situation. “I noticed you had sweet roll dough in the fridge and Kotarou wanted some. How long in the oven?”

He named an oven temperature and then, “Five minutes.”

Spada nodded. “I’ll put some food in your room. You look like you need to sleep when you get out of here.”

And getting Naaga some damned quiet would be good.

Stinger nodded, and Spada left the infirmary.

He had Naaga keep his hand in the ice for ten minutes. And he was really glad that trick worked, because the swelling was down visibly when he removed Naaga’s hand. Enough for him to slide the ring off with a little resistance (that caused Naaga to wince in pain), but the ring was off and intact, and Naaga seemed much, much calmer. 

Stinger moved behind Naaga on the bed, reaching down the back of his collar and pulling up the chain with his necklace. He unclasped the chain, slid his ring onto the chain, re-clasped the necklace. He pulled the necklace completely out of his shirt, and Naaga looked pleased, good hand going to wrap around the charm and his ring.

He wrapped his arms around Naaga’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder as Raptor treated his hand completely and wrapped a bandage around it. She gave him a dosage of pain meds. “These are stronger than usual,” she explained. “With broken bones, I want the first dose to be strong. Regular doses should be fine after that.”

Stinger nodded, helping Naaga off the bed. He swayed a little. Stinger steadied him, getting an arm around his waist. Okay, Raptor gave him good pain meds, because he was smiling, leaning closer to Stinger and almost laughing a little. Raptor handed him Naaga’s blaster and jacket.

The walk down the hallway was… different, to say the least. “Hmm,” Naaga was saying, almost slurring, as they walked slowly back to their room. “I like you.”

“I know,” Stinger replied idly.

“No, like, really, really like you.” Naaga gestured vaguely with a free hand. “Like, I like all these other people, but really like you.”

Stinger snorted a little. “You just said the word ‘like’ far too many times.”

“I’m serious,” Naaga whined.

“I know. That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

Naaga looked a little grumpy, but replied with, “I love you too.”

They ran into Tsurugi as they passed the galley. Tsurugi was heading into the galley and stopped when he saw them. “Holy moly, Naaga, are you okay?”

“I’m great!” except that Naaga drew out the last word and sounded drunk.

Tsurugi looked at Stinger. “Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. Raptor gave him the good pain meds.”

“Ah.” That explained that as far as Tsurugi was concerned. “Spada said he put food in your room.” He reached out and patted Naaga’s shoulder. “Get some rest, okay?”

Naaga looked at Tsurugi’s hand and then back to his face. “Hey,” he said haltingly. “What are you doing? I’m engaged.”

“He’s just being nice,” Stinger told him.

Then Naaga clapped a hand over his mouth, staring at Stinger in horror. “I wasn’t supposed to tell him that!”

Tsurugi laughed. “I have been informed that was a worst kept secret than you two getting together in the first place.”

“You’re not wrong,” Stinger muttered.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t supposed to tell people,” Naaga was babbling.

“You’re fine, Naaga. You just need to lay down.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Naaga agreed. “I don’t feel good.”

Tsurugi waved as they continued down the hallway, Naaga leaning more heavily on Stinger. Their room was lit by the nightstand lamps, and containers with food were on Stinger’s desk. Stinger’s stomach rumbled. Yeah, not until he was hit with food did he realize how hungry he was.

Naaga made it as far as the bed and flopped down.

Stinger put Naaga’s jacket and blaster on his desk, and then followed him to the bed, untying and taking off his shoes, and then stripping off his socks. Naaga rolled over, looking up at him with a grin. His hair was falling into his eyes.

“Are you trying to get lucky?” he asked.

Stinger blinked. “Where did you learn that phrase?”

“Lucky.”

“Of course you did.” He tugged Naaga to sit up, and then stripped off his shirt. That movement confirmed what he already knew—they both badly needed to shower. Stinger unclasped his necklace and Naaga watched him closely as he put the necklace—with his engagement ring—on the nightstand. Naaga pressed a kiss to his lips when he got close enough, and Stinger responded. When they broke apart, he said softly, “How about this? We take a shower, and then go to bed, and then you’ll get lucky in the morning?”

Naaga pushed out his lower lip in a fucking adorable pout.

“Fine,” he replied, voice long-suffering. Then, “You have really pretty eyes.”

“Thank you,” he responded, tugging Naaga off the bed.

Naaga stopped as he stood up. 

Stinger frowned. “You feel sick?” he asked.

Another moment, and then Naaga nodded quickly, rushing past him into the bathroom. He made it to the toilet, throwing up what appeared to be mostly water. Stinger wasn’t worried about getting him more pain meds—those were designed to break down quickly and be absorbed, for reasons exactly like this one. Stinger got in the bathroom with him, rubbing his back as the dry heaves died out. He didn’t want to think too hard, but he wasn’t surprised Naaga was throwing up. Pain? Stress? Who knew?

“Brush your teeth,” Stinger said gently. “I’ll get the shower going. Spada brought some food. If you feed better after the shower, you can try to eat something.”

Naaga nodded, slowly getting to his feet and grabbing what was actually Stinger’s toothbrush. (He didn’t care.) 

He reached over and turned on the shower water.

The shower went quickly, although Naaga was shaky now that he’d thrown up and still very loopy from the pain meds, so Stinger ended up washing him. The soap bubbles did cheer him up, and Stinger swore he’d never seen him that amused by something like bubbles before. There was something charmingly endearing about it, even if the reaction came from very strong painkillers.

Getting out of the shower went fast, Stinger dried himself off, and then helped Naaga (who was having some hand-eye coordination trouble with the towel.) Dry, Naaga went back into their room, pulled back the covers of the bed and collapsed onto the mattress.

Stinger was tempted to just tuck him into bed and let him sleep.

But the noise level in the galley indicated that someone would likely be up early, and in their room. He’d place odds on Kotarou or Balance, but, honestly, everyone was so jubilant right now, anyone could decide wandering into their room and dragging them to an impromptu party was a great idea.

So he wrangled Naaga into a pair of pajama pants. He considered a shirt, but Naaga was so exhausted and out of it, he figured that would be more trouble than it was worth.

Naaga snuggled into the pillow. Stinger pulled on a pair of his own sleep pants, and then grabbed one of the containers of food. Ham and cheese croissants. Still warm. Stinger sat down on the bed, bringing the container with him, and biting into one. Gods, these were delicious. Close to the grilled cheese that Naaga liked so much. If Stinger wasn’t completely terrible at making croissants… Naaga rolled over, clearly enticed by the smell of the food.

“Spada’s croissants,” Stinger said. “Want one?”

Naaga nodded, half sitting up. He managed half of one before his eyelids drooped. Having already finished his, Stinger took the other half and put it back in the container. He shut the container and put it back on the desk. He turned out the lights and got back into bed, pulling the blankets securely over them.

He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him close. Naaga made a content noise, cuddling close.

They would have a lifetime ahead of them of peaceful nights, holding each other. Lazy mornings, making love and cooking breakfast. Arguing about silly things. Making up. Planning for the future, maybe raising children together. Who knew? They had all the time in the world now.

And Stinger was so happy they were together.

So glad Naaga wandered into the galley that night a year ago.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

Naaga exhaled sleepily. “I love you too.”

\-------------------

Someone was in their room.

Whirring joints, faint sounds of a motor running, no mooing.

“Get out of here, Balance,” Stinger groaned.

“Morning to you too!” came the irritatingly cheerful reply.

Stinger opened his eyes. Naaga was snuggled against him, breathing evenly. Balance was creeping around the edge of the bed to Naaga’s side. Stinkin’ mechanical lifeform…

“What do you want?” Stinger asked, trying to keep his voice down because Naaga was still asleep.

“Just checking on Naaga. Raptor said he was freaking out last night.”

“He was hurt. But he’s fine now.”

“Balance?”

And now Naaga was awake.

Naaga seemed to realize two things at once. First, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. And second, someone other than Stinger was in the room. The first one did tie to the second, since Naaga was modest around other people, uncomfortable being less than fully dressed around them. So Naaga pulled the blankets up to his neck, eyes wide.

Balance laughed. “Naaga, it’s just me. I’ve seen you naked before.”

That made Naaga pull the blankets completely over his head. “That was one time!” came the muffled retort. “And I’d just been near toxic chemicals so it was necessary.”

Stinger gave Balance a questioning look.

“Radioactive material,” Balance explained. “Organics need to strip and scrub. Non-organic needs to disinfect.”

That explained that. Naaga stayed under the blanket. Stinger patted his shoulder through the blanket.

“At any rate,” Balance continued. “Naaga seems good. Wanted to tell you that Spada is making brunch. More food than I’ve ever seen him make. You guys might want to check it out.”

“We will.”

Balance stared at him for a moment.

Stinger narrowed his eyes.

Naaga whined quietly under the blanket.

Stinger pulled back the blanket enough to look at him, knowing what was wrong. “We’ll see you at brunch, Balance,” he said, looking pointedly at Naaga.

Balance got the hint. “See you then!” And he was gone.

The moment the doors slid shut, Stinger said, “You can go to the bathroom now.”

Naaga scrambled out from under the blankets and shuffled into the bathroom. He could hear the familiar sounds of him taking a piss and washing up for the morning. When he came out of the bathroom, there was still a high flush in his cheeks.

Stinger pushed back the covers, smiling.

“You want a quickie before brunch?”

Naaga nodded, the flush deepening. He crossed the room to their bed, quickly crawling into Stinger’s lap, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m glad we’re here,” Naaga whispered.

“Me too.”

“We get the future.”

“I know.” Stinger smiled, threading a hand through his hair. Naaga’s return smile was small and comfortable and utterly beautiful. “So what do you want to do first?”

“Have sex. Eat breakfast.”

Stinger kissed him, wet and messy. 

He was so in love with Naaga.

This was perfect.

_Everyone’s a star and deserves the right to twinkle._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe it's over! (And I can't believe I only have the epilogue left of this fic!) It's been a wild ride - thank you everyone for sticking with me on this fic! Your kudos and comments always make me smile! (Seriously, they make my day!) My readers are the absolute best, and I appreciate all of you more than you know! THANK YOU SO MUCH! *blows kisses*
> 
> I am not sure of the timing for the epilogue. Maybe a week or ten days? I am moving to a new apartment this week, and it's shaping up to be a hectic week at work. But yes, we will get the happily ever after future! Woo! 
> 
> Unrelated, I do plan on posting some of my abandoned chapter ideas over on tumblr once I get the epilogue finished. :D (Just some ideas that didn't work out because of the way the episodes ended up falling out. Stinger and Champ going down to Earth to chase after Scorpio separately caused some of that.) Everyone have a great week! Don't let Singles' Awareness Day get you down!


	30. Epilogue - Stars Scattered Like Sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Will you miss me?” Stinger turned to Naaga, smiling a little. “Are you afraid I won’t miss you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG. Super big delay here, but the epilogue has finally arrived! (Part of the delay was this ended up being much longer than I originally planned - I couldn't help myself! So many ideas! So little time!) Enjoy!

**30/ Epilogue—Stars Scattered Like Sand**

“Are you nervous?”

“No.”

“Will you miss me?”

Stinger turned to Naaga, smiling a little. “Are you afraid I won’t miss you?”

Naaga looked away, a little embarrassed. “Maybe. I don’t know.”

He wrapped an arm around Naaga’s waist, pulling him close. 

The next weeks were going to be difficult. Don Armage was gone, but the remnants of Jark Matter remained. Rebellion had appointed Tsurugi back as the president of the Space Federation, so he was already gone from the Orion. The others were taking a few days to determine where they needed to go, what they needed to do. The Commander was in touch with Rebellion. 

For them, the bottom line was that Naaga was going back to Rebellion HQ with Balance and going through the search, rescue and retrieval training. In just a few days, constellation system had identified Jark Matter caches that needed to be returned to their original systems. The Commander and Tsurugi were giving Naaga and Balance the latitude to figure out tackling the problem and executing something, so they’d be gone on missions for a while. 

Stinger was staying on the Orion. So many of the others were leaving for their home systems or missions. He was staying with Rebellion, and expected to be deployed to a system where the Jark Matter fighting was still the worst—governors who didn’t want to give up control, even with the defeat of their leader. (Too many power-hungry governors and Chief Retainers.) People were still suffering under those people. For now, their home base was still the Orion. Which meant their home was the ship for a few months at any rate. Stinger was fine with that. They’d taken a day and gone to the Rebellion stronghold and picked up the things they’d stored there.

Even with the impending time apart, Stinger couldn’t help but be pleased that they were currently cuddled under the quilt that his parents made for him.

He rubbed Naaga’s side gently. 

“Why would you be afraid I won’t miss you?”

Naaga shrugged, looking away. 

Stinger gently put a finger under his chin, raising his gaze. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Naaga slipped an arm over his side, snuggling closer to him. “It’s been a long time since we’ve had to sleep apart for more than a few nights,” he murmured.

Stinger blinked, thinking. “Not since—”

“Akenba.”

And then Naaga buried his face against his chest. Stinger wrapped both arms around him, holding him close. Hard to believe they’d only been together a year, and so much had happened to them in that year. More than he’d ever thought was possible. He resolved years worth of chasing and wondering with his brother, trying not to think about how he’d allowed himself to be manipulated. Hell, he’d buried his brother, his last living relative. And then Akenba manipulated Naaga, got him under her control and tried to convince him he wanted to hurt his friends. But Naaga came back. They got engaged, seriously talked about the future.

But this was their reality for the next few months.

“Naaga,” he whispered. “We’ll be okay. We can talk multiple times a day.” He nudged him a little. “Remember when you were on that mission before Christmas, and we fell asleep talking to each other?”

A nod that he felt rather than saw, and then Naaga pulled back a little, enough to meet his gaze. There was a tiny smile on Naaga’s face. “I don’t know,” he said softly. “I think I knew we’d still have all this work once we defeated Don Armage. I just thought we’d have more time to ourselves before then.”

“I know. Me too.” Stinger pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “But no one has to grow up with Jark Matter controlling everything.”

Naaga nodded. He still looked troubled.

“Naaga?”

A long sigh and then, “We have so much to talk about, to decide, and we don’t know when we’ll be together again.”

“We’ll get there.” Stinger smiled. “You want to make a list?”

Naaga gave him what could only be described as a mild bitchface. Which made Stinger grin. Naaga nudged him, cheeks flushing. “Don’t need a list,” he mumbled. “We know.”

“The bank accounts are already joint,” Stinger pointed out. They’d done that about three months ago. After all the stuff with Akenba and Naaga joining the Scorpius System, the joint accounts had made more sense, a safeguard in case either one of them was… incapacitated… again. “And we need to decide when we want to get married.”

“And where we’re going to live.”

Somehow, getting married seemed to be less daunting than deciding where to live. The ship wasn’t some place to stay forever. If they decided to start a family, Stinger certainly did not want to raise children on a spaceship. He wanted green and sunlight and space to breath. 

“Yes,” he agreed.

“I like Earth.”

Stinger smiled again. “We’ll get there,” he reassured him. “You’re about to see all kinds of places. Might find some place you really like.”

“I doubt it.”

“You’re settled on Earth, huh?” Naaga just looked at him, eyes bright and anxious. “Earth is a good place,” he replied. “I’d be okay with that.”

Naaga closed the small distance between them, kissing him long and hard. When they broke apart to breath, he whispered, “I want you.”

Stinger could get on board with that.

After, he held Naaga close, listening to him breath. 

This was temporary. They could do this.

\-------------------

For the first time in five weeks, they’d both be back on the Orion. Stinger’s departure from the Cassiopeia System had been delayed—he’d been leading a team for the last month, working to unseat a particularly stubborn governor and those loyal to him. They’d finally gotten the Jark Matter officials captured and remanded to a Rebellion holding facility, and spent time with the local people, setting up a temporary governing body until the people could restore their former government. His team had finally been able to hand off the operation to a relief and transition team, who’s transports got delayed. Which meant Stinger was delayed by twelve hours. What was supposed to be a day together had turned into the night together. But they had three days leave starting tomorrow. So that was something.

He’d called Naaga from Sasori Voyager, told him not to wait up. Just go to bed. Naaga had just come from two back-to-back missions. The first had been cataloguing items the governor on Planet Jigama had stockpiled. That was hours of painstaking work, combing through archives to determine where the items originated from. They’d spent a solid two weeks cataloguing those items. Then there was waiting for an appropriate team to transport the items back, assuming the system in question was stable enough. Normally, Naaga and Balance returned the items themselves, but the volume there was huge. Right after finishing the cataloguing, they went to the Dorado System, and spent ten days dismantling the most elaborate security system Naaga and Balance had ever seen, discovering another stockpile of treasures. More painstaking cataloguing.

Naaga had looked exhausted when they spoke, and Stinger had no doubt that he would fall asleep the moment he got into bed.

He didn’t know why the scene that greeted him in their room surprised him. Naaga had changed into comfortable clothes, but had not gone to bed exactly. He was leaning on a pillow, dozing against the headboard, on top of the covers. His datapad was next to him, the sketchpad still open and showing some half-completed doodles. 

He inhaled sleepily when Stinger walked in, stretching a little and opening his eyes.

“Hi,” he said, sounding lethargic.

“Hey,” he replied, leaning over Naaga and kissing him. Naaga’s hands went to the back of his neck, keeping him in place, holding on to the kiss. “You need to sleep,” Stinger said softly against his lips.

“I wanted to see you,” was the reply, followed by another kiss. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” And, gods, yes, he really had. Just being in the same room as Naaga again loosened something in his chest. He felt more grounded and centered. He was so tired, but seeing Naaga made some of that exhaustion lift. He had something good in his life, something worth fighting for, someone he loved more than anything.

“What should we do?” Naaga asked quietly.

“Go to bed. It’s late.”

“We could take a bath?” Naaga phrased the suggestion like a question. Stinger smiled. He could still remember the first bath they took together, right after he and Champ went down to the surface of Earth to search for his brother. Baths were unheard of on his home planet—water was too precious a resource to waste on such a luxury. But on the ship, on other planets, they were just a routine, mundane thing. He’d grown to love baths with Naaga, to the point that he didn’t take baths unless Naaga was going to be in there with him.

“You just want an excuse to bath with me,” Stinger teased gently.

“I don’t need an excuse,” Naaga yawned. “You always agree.” He wrinkled his nose a little and added, “You could use one.”

Stinger just continued smiling, so glad they were together. “Come on, then,” he said, tugging Naaga out of bed. “Let’s go take a bath.”

Soon enough, they were sinking into the hot water. Naaga added some chamomile powder to the tub, making the water feel fantastic. He couldn’t help but hold Naaga close as they waited to the tub to fill, stripping off his shirt and running his hands over all that smooth skin. In the tub, he idly ran a washcloth up and down Naaga’s back, not quite working on cleaning anyone yet.

Six months since Don Armage’s defeat. So much of the universe was still in chaos. So much left to do. If he’d thought that the fight against Jark Matter was endless, cleaning up the pieces and ridding the universe of the remnants seemed equally as daunting. He didn’t know why he felt itchy, restless, but he had wanted something different in his life. This felt like… more of the same.

“Are you okay?” Naaga asked softly.

Stinger rubbed his back, before nudging Naaga to turn around. He pulled him close to his chest, pleased when Naaga’s arms automatically went to wind around his shoulders. He’d known he missed Naaga, this constant ache in his chest dissipating into nothing. 

“I am now,” he whispered. “This feels like—”

“—coming home?”

“Yeah,” he replied, lump in his throat. “It does.”

Naaga’s voice was almost inaudible when he said, “I know you wanted to be living on a planet before we got married.”

Stinger pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I said that might be nice.” He nudged Naaga a little, causing him to shift. Naaga ran his fingers over his opposing shoulder. “But?” he prompted.

“I want to get married now.” Naaga said everything low and rushed, so Stinger barely caught what he said.

He continued holding Naaga close, running a hand up and down his back. He wanted to get married. Hell, he was the one that proposed. He’d already made braided wedding bands to weld to their engagement rings. For all his talk about how this was already permanent and how Naaga would need to work hard to get rid of him, he understood why Naaga wanted this. Everything they fixed seemed to uncover three more problems. This, them, was the foundation they were building their future on. And honestly? He wanted this too.

“So let’s get married now,” he finally replied.

Naaga pulled back a little, enough to look at him. His eyes were wide and he looked almost afraid to be happy about this. “Really?” he breathed.

“Of course.”

That was when Naaga started to look animated. “There’s a courthouse on Earth we can go to. We already applied for the license a few months ago, so we just need to go down there and tell them that we want to get married.”

“Easy enough. We can go in the morning.”

“Should we tell the others?”

Stinger blinked and asked, “Why?” before he could stop himself. He spent so much time keeping other people out of his business that he never stopped to think about when he should invite them into his business. He supposed there might be occasions for that.

Naaga looked truly confused, and a little afraid, like he’d misinterpreted a custom. “Don’t people invite their friends to their wedding?” he asked, voice small.

“Yes,” he confirmed. “They do.”

“So we should tell the others.”

“You’re right. We should.” He let out a long breath. “I don’t know how many of them will actually be able to be there.”

“Balance and Raptor, they’re here.” Naaga snuggled a little closer to him. “Isn’t Kotarou down on Earth? And Spada? They’ll be there.”

“Okay. We’ll send everyone a message when we get out of here.”

This seemed to give Naaga a second wind, as he grabbed a washcloth and they got serious about actually washing. (And sneaking in as many kisses as possible, to the point where they were getting distracted with making out.)

Stinger felt warm and content. 

Because this was what he had wanted for a long time.

\-------------------

He had no idea how the others got to Earth with twelve hours notice, but they did. Stinger had been expecting them to come witness the ceremony, maybe insist on eating somewhere. They hadn’t even really dressed up, seeing as neither of them owned formal clothes. The others did keep their attire casual. But then Spada was insisting they all go back to his restaurant, which wasn’t even open yet.

And he really had no idea how Spada had pulled this off.

Not only was there was formal meal, but a cake and, weirdly, presents.

He suspected Spada had help in the form of Balance and Raptor.

Balance grabbed Stinger during the reception and informed him, “If you make Naaga cry, I will end you.”

“You’ve threatened this before.”

“And I mean it! I will end you.”

“I believe you.”

“Good, so don’t fuck this up, you—”

“Balance!” Naaga interrupted him, and that threat ended.

The cake was the carrot cake that Spada made for their birthdays last year. Spada also informed him, “I know your birthday was a month ago, but I made a birthday cake. Belated. You were off in the Monoceros System on your actual birthday.”

Now, they were in a fancy hotel room that Tsurugi had insisted was his wedding present to them. They had the room for two nights, full room service, and a list of things the hotel offered—hot springs, massages, spa, fancy food.

They’d gotten as far as getting their shirts off, kissing feverishly on the bed. Stinger wanted to keep kissing Naaga forever, couldn’t believe they were actually married now. (Couldn’t believe they’d actually had a party for the wedding.) He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down Naaga’s chest, kissing just under his bellybutton, above the waistband of his pants. Naaga shifted underneath him, clearly wanting more. Stinger rested his forehead against his stomach for a moment, feeling Naaga thread his fingers through his hair.

“Stinger?” Naaga asked, voice a little strained.

He raised his head, resting his chin on his stomach. “What?”

Naaga was flushed, but questioned softly, “Do you just want to kiss or do you want to have sex?”

Stinger crawled up his body, meeting his lips in a searing kiss. “I like kissing you,” he murmured.

“I know people usually have sex on their wedding night,” Naaga said in a rush. “But we don’t have to. We can just kiss if you want.”

He threaded their fingers together, free hand going to trace Naaga’s jawline. He pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “We can do whatever we want,” he said with a small smile.

Naaga cupped his face. His pupils were blown wide with pleasure. “I love you,” he said softly and earnestly. “I’m… happy… we’re married now.”

Stinger just kissed him. Any time Naaga named an emotion he was feeling was huge.

“I love you too,” he whispered. “So much.”

He ducked his head, sucking a mark into Naaga’s collarbone.

Honestly, he wanted to keep kissing Naaga for a while. They’d eventually make love—they’d get there. He wasn’t worried about tradition or what people expected. The only person to ever try to casually ask about their sex life had been Tsurugi, of all people. Stinger had just snapped that it was none of his business and that line of inquiry ended quickly. He wanted to do what felt right. And getting married felt right. The one thing he’d always been sure of was Naaga.

He raised his head to meet Naaga’s lips in a hot, wet kiss.

Pulling back, he gently traced Naaga’s lips with his thumb. He was flushed, pupils blown wide with pleasure, hair mussed, breathing uneven. Stinger loved seeing him like this, undone and passionate, chasing what he wanted.

They had their whole lives ahead of them.

And Stinger was looking forward to every moment.

\-------------------

This seemed like the hundredth apartment they’d looked at, but Naaga knew this was only the fifth. Stinger could not articulate what he found wrong with any of the previous four, just that he didn’t like them. Something was gnawing at him, but he wouldn’t say what.

The timing for this worked out. They had one week’s leave and, if they could decide on a place today, they could be moved in by the end of the week, just leaving bare essentials on the Orion.

But deciding today was likely not going to happen. Naaga wanted to cry from sheer frustration. The last year had been hard—harder than he thought. They’d been apart too much, opposing missions and schedules, and leave time being shifted. Since they got married six months ago, the leadership, especially Shou Lonpou, had gotten better about aligning their time off. And Stinger had gotten several promotions, giving him more leeway with scheduling off time. But still, weeks at a time apart only to be together for a few days? They were putting the universe back together, one piece at a time. Naaga knew they were making a difference. He had not even broached the idea of diplomatic missions to the Ophiuchus System with leadership, because everything was so hectic.

If he was honest with himself, right now, he wanted to be selfish. He wanted to quit working for Rebellion. They had money saved up. They would be all right until they could find other jobs.

He slipped his hand into Stinger’s as the realtor let them into the apartment.

Stinger squeezed his hand lightly, giving him a tight smile.

“This one is newly restored,” she was saying. “About thirty years old. The style was lots of open space and windows.”

They stepped into a wide open room. The kitchen was tucked away to the left, with large windows lining what could become a dining room. The place had high, vaulted ceilings, and the main living area was lined with tall windows. 

“Only one bedroom and one bath,” the realtor added.

“That’s fine,” Stinger said, adjusting his hold on Naaga’s hand, so their fingers were threaded together completely. Naaga allowed himself to be led as Stinger walked through the living area into the dining area.

“What do you think?” Naaga asked softly.

Stinger glanced around. “It’s better than the others. Not dark.”

“And it’s top-floor corner.”

“Less noise.” Stinger hated the idea of noisy neighbors, and was a light sleeper, in spite of growing up in tents. (He’d said that the night wind and sand caused enough ambient noise to drown out other people in their tents, but Naaga was not sure that was the truth. Not with how Stinger had a tendency to wake up to any noise.)

“These units are virtually soundproof,” the realtor added. “Windows are double-paned.”

Naaga watched as Stinger nodded, and then peered out the window.

“Is that a park?” he asked.

The realtor nodded. “They were able to save the trees, so there’s lots of green space out there. Activities for the kids, community gardens.”

Stinger tugged on Naaga’s hand, leading him into the bedroom. Like the living area, the bedroom had lots of windows and vaulted ceilings.

“What’s wrong?” Naaga finally asked, quietly. The realtor hadn’t followed them.

Stinger sighed. “It’s ridiculous.”

“If you’re upset, it’s not.”

A shrug. For a moment, Naaga thought Stinger might not tell him, but then he said, “What’s the point in finding an apartment, spending all this money, when we never see each other?”

And then Naaga saw what the problem was. He felt the same way. Not seeing each other was slowly taking its toll, and they wouldn’t be able to continue working for Rebellion for much longer. Stinger had a point. 

“And then we’re here, trying to cram all of this into a week.” Stinger sounded defeated. He gestured vaguely with his free hand. “I’m back in the Cassiopeia System next week, and you’re off to some place I’ve never even heard of—”

Naaga couldn’t help himself. He interrupted with, “You’ve never heard of the Corvus System?”

Stinger blinked. “Okay,” he mumbled. “I have heard of that one.”

Naaga stepped into his space. “But I know what you mean.” He let out a shaky breath. He hadn’t been going to tell Stinger all this yet, but, “The Corvus System is the last mission I’m going on. Balance invented a way to scout and inventory using a holographic projection. He’s the one actually going on the missions. I can work from the Orion or the Rebellion base on Earth.” He shrugged. “I might be called for an occasional mission, but it shouldn’t be many. Not as often, at any rate.”

Stinger kissed him. He’d been expecting a lot of reactions, but hadn’t considered this one. He should have—this was Stinger’s reaction when he was surprised in a good way.

“I guess I should tell you I put in to be stationed on the Orion, orbiting Earth,” Stinger mumbled against his lips. “Won’t go into effect for a few weeks, but I should only be out when something pretty serious is happening.”

Naaga felt warmth spread throughout his chest. They were on the same page after all.

Stinger pressed another long kiss to his lips.

When they broke apart, he let out a breath, glancing around the bedroom. “We’re going to need more curtains than I thought possible, but,” he smiled a little, “I kind of like this one.”

“Me too.” Naaga paused. “It has lots of light.”

In the end, moving in didn’t take them long. Going out and deciding what furniture to get took much longer. Stinger obviously liked scavenging for furniture on the ship rather than picking out his own pieces. But Naaga figured out what things he would go for—reasonably priced or on sale, clean lines, neutral colors. Stinger made things that were brightly colored, so the furniture did not need to be. Same for things like curtains. 

The last night before their next missions, Stinger pulled Naaga into his arms from where they had been sitting on the floor in the living room, eating from a local stir-fry restaurant. (They had some cooking utensils, but were far from having a well-stocked enough kitchen to properly cook. Spada had been by earlier in the week with a box of things he no longer needed, and that got them closer, but still missing ridiculous things, like a frying pan.) Stinger pulled his legs over his lap, holding him close. Naaga wrapped his arms around Stinger’s shoulders, settling against him, listening to his steady heartbeat.

They would be okay.

Everything would be fine.

\-------------------

Stinger’s heart was pounding uncomfortably as he rushed through the halls of the Rebellion hospital in the Southern Cross System. He’d gotten the emergency call less than an hour ago, and got a ride on a Rebellion warp-speed ship. Balance had called him, and all he really knew was that Naaga got hurt on their latest mission. Neither of them went on mission frequently, hadn’t for the last year and a half. But Stinger was needed to help on Planet Southern Cross, and Naaga was going with Balance to a nearby planet to help sort out another Jark Matter hoard. The mission put them on the same base ship, so that was something at least.

He finally caught sight of Balance in the hallway.

“Where is he?” he all but growled.

“Calm down, he’s okay. Broken leg. That’s all.” Balance was patting his shoulders and Stinger resisted the urge to start dismantling him. “He’s out of the medical pod. Do everyone a favor and take a deep breath. You don’t want to freak him out.”

“Shut-up!” Stinger snapped, but he knew Balance was right. Instead, he shrugged Balance’s shoulders off and then grabbed his chest plate. “What the hell happened?”

“Stinger,” Balance said, almost whining, “It was an accident! The building was practically decaying. We got rid of the security measures, but the place had flooded recently and the floor gave in.” Then he tacked on, “He didn’t fall that far.”

As if that stupid statement was going to make things better.

“You should have scanned for that!”

“I know!” Then Balance slumped, eyes dimming. “But we were in a hurry, didn’t think.” Balance looked up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let him—”

“I don’t care!” Stinger interrupted, angry. He pushed past Balance into the room. He should likely have felt bad for snapping at Balance, but he really did not care. Balance was mechanical. He knew the risks, knew what the scan for. This was sloppy and careless. 

Naaga was dozing on the bed when he walked in. He had the sheet and blankets pushed to the end of the bed, wearing hospital scrubs. His left leg was still in a splint. The pod would have mended any broken bones, muscles or tissues, but keeping the limb still for a while would be important, not disrupting the newly healed places. They did not have him hooked up to any intravenous medications, which was a good sign. Meant the breaks were clean, no shattering. He opened his eyes when Stinger walked in.

“Stinger,” he breathed, holding out his arms.

He crossed the room immediately, leaning over the bed and pulling Naaga into his embrace. He pressed a kiss to his temple, leaning back just a little to look at him. He was pale and drawn, with dark circles under his eyes. Small cuts and bruises seemed to litter his arms and chest. He gently pushed his hair out of his eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked quickly. “What do you need?”

“I’m cold,” Naaga complained, tone plaintive. And, yeah, his skin did feel cool to the touch. He gestured towards the blankets. “And I can’t reach the blankets, because my leg still hurts a lot and I can’t really lean down to—”

“Okay,” Stinger replied, hoping Naaga couldn’t feel his shaking. He reached down and grabbed the blankets, pulling them securely over Naaga, tucking him in. Naaga snuggled a little into the newfound warmth, finally taking him in.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“Why?” Stinger asked, sitting on the edge of the bed. “You’re okay. That’s what matters.”

“I didn’t mean to.” Tears were welling up in Naaga’s eyes. “There was just so much and that was the last site and—”

“Naaga, hush. You’re going to be fine.”

“Did you yell at Balance?”

“A little.”

“It’s not his fault. I didn’t follow protocol either.” The tears began slipping down his cheeks.

“Baby,” Stinger said softly. “Just breath. We’ll get through this.” He held Naaga as best he could, heart dropping to his stomach at the harsh sobs.

“It hurts.”

Stinger rubbed his shoulder and straightened a little. “Let me go get someone and see if you can have more pain meds.” He looked at Naaga for a long moment. “Need anything else?”

Naaga sniffed hard, wiping away some tears. “I’m hungry.”

“I’ll get it.” Stinger turned. Balance was in a doorway. No telling how long he had been there. “I’ll go. I know where the nurses are.”

Stinger nodded, while Naaga quietly said, “Thank you.”

And then Balance was gone.

Eventually, Balance came back with a doctor, who gave Naaga another dose of pain meds, and explained the situation to them. The breaks in his leg were clean—and Stinger grabbed Naaga’s hand and squeezed hard at the next thing—but his leg had been broken in three places. The pod healed the damage, but everything would be fragile, for lack of a better word, for a while. Naaga would need to leave the splint in place for forty-eight hours, and then would need to keep off the leg for another two weeks, meaning he’d need to use crutches. He’d also have a regimen of low dose pain medication for the first week. 

Naaga just seemed exhausted after that. Balance handed Stinger the food containers he’d brought—looked to be sandwiches and soup.

“I brought you some too,” Balance added.

“Thank you.” When Balance turned to leave, he stopped him. “Wait.” Balance turned. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you earlier.”

Balance waved him away. “It’s okay. You were worried about Naaga.” The mechanical lifeform nudged him. “I know that means you love him.”

Stinger nodded.

“I’ll be back in the morning,” Balance said to them. “Bye!” And he was gone.

“Balance brought sandwiches and soup,” Stinger told Naaga. “Any of that seem appealing?”

“Maybe some soup.”

Naaga struggled to sit up, so Stinger moved to the bed and helped him slide into a semi-sitting position. The bed moved, but he didn’t feel like pointing that out to Naaga. He sat on the edge of the bed, helping Naaga maneuver into eating some of the soup—tomato soup. But the new dose of pain meds were making Naaga groggy, so he only managed some of the soup.

But he decided Naaga needed more sustenance than that, and got him to slowly eat some of the sandwich, coaxing him the whole time.

“I want to sleep,” Naaga cried, tears forming again.

“One more bite, come on.”

And he did manage one more bite before slumping down on the bed. Stinger put the leftover food on a chair in the room, and adjusted Naaga’s blankets and pillows to make him comfortable. When he straightened to go sit in one of the chairs, Naaga grabbed his wrist.

“No. Stay with me.” Naaga shifted over in the bed, wincing as he moved his splinted leg.

He never could deny Naaga anything.

Stinger slipped off his boots, and then his scarf and jacket. He then slipped under the covers next to Naaga, who immediately tried to cuddle closer to him. Only a few moments of arranging were needed to get Naaga comfortable, in spite of the injury. Stinger was on his side, arm and tail slung over Naaga’s waist. That let Naaga rest a hand over his arm and snuggle against his chest. Naaga was dead asleep in only a few moments.

Naaga was going to be okay. He just had to keep telling himself that.

\-------------------

Naaga was tired of the crutches and he still had a week to go on them.

“Would you sit down?” Stinger was saying, voice exasperated and a little huffy. “I will get whatever it is you’re in there looking around for.”

“I can get water on my own.”

“Naaga—”

“It’s just crutches!” he finally snapped. He felt a pang at the immediate look of hurt that crossed Stinger’s face. His husband was just trying to be helpful, trying to take care of him. And Naaga really did hate trying to maneuver around their apartment with the crutches. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, leaning against the crutches in the kitchen, using the counter for some leverage.

Stinger still looked a little hurt, but he came into the kitchen.

“It’s practically lunch time,” he murmured. “Spada brought some croissants and sandwich things.”

“Spada brought everything,” Naaga pointed out. And Spada had. He’d shown up minutes after they got back home from the Southern Cross System, toting multiple large bags. He had pre-made meals and groceries, more food than the two of them could ever eat in two weeks. Spada had waved away their protests that this was too much, simply saying the pre-made stuff could be frozen and they could use up the fresh things now.

“True.” Stinger gave him a pleading look. “Please sit down and put your leg up. I’ll bring you water and lunch.”

Not wanting to start an argument, Naaga hobbled over to the small table and chairs they had in the dining room—more of a nook, it was so close to the kitchen. He pulled out two chairs, lowered himself into one, and propped his leg up on the other. His leg no longer outright hurt, just felt sore and stiff, and propping the offending limb up on a chair or the ottoman they had in the living room helped.

They were quiet as Stinger made lunch. 

Naaga watched as Stinger moved the kitchen. They worked a lot, still went on the occasional mission. Yes, they spent time at home, time together, but most of their leave time was spent going camping or other nearby places that could loosely be considered destinations. But the past week in the apartment had made Stinger itchy, irritable. The more days that passed, the more pronounced things were. They’d not really had this much time off and nowhere they were going. (Stinger had been given leave to match his recovery time from the injury.) Stinger was trying to spend time outside the apartment, looking for excuses to run errands. He’d actually started going on runs in the morning, which said something because Stinger hated running. (He enjoyed doing calisthenics or other exercises in the morning, in front of the open windows in the living area.)

How had he missed this? Stinger didn’t like the apartment.

Stinger brought the water, two sandwiches and some zucchini chips to the table.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I know you can handle yourself.”

Naaga reached out and took his hand as he sat down. He ran his thumb over his knuckles, remembering the way Stinger did that to him. Stinger let out a long breath, eyes distant.

“Stinger,” Naaga murmured. And then, might as well be direct, “Do you not like the apartment?”

He looked up sharply, but tightened his grip on his hand. “This is the first time we’ve spent this much time, uninterrupted here. It’s just… small.”

“You didn’t feel this way on the ship.”

“No, not about that room. There were other places on the ship, and we went on missions all the time.” He shrugged. “I don’t know. That didn’t feel permanent. This does. And it’s making me feel closed in.” Another long breath. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to be able to define it.” Softly, “Would being in a house help?”

Stinger didn’t reply immediately, but looked thoughtful.

“We’d have a yard,” Naaga continued. “We could try to find someplace out of the way. Lots of trees. But close enough to a city to get groceries.”

That got a smile out of Stinger. Then he frowned. “We can’t afford that.”

“We can look.”

Stinger agreed. Then smiled when Naaga tugged his datapad towards him. “You’re going to start right now?” He shrugged. “Naaga,” Stinger said, getting his attention and closing his free hand over his wrist, stopping him from continuing to search the datapad. “I think we need some changes that aren’t about where we live.”

“What do you mean?” Naaga asked, focusing on Stinger.

“I’m tired,” Stinger whispered. “The missions, being away. That’s gotten better, but we’re still being asked to be away.”

“People need us,” Naaga replied softly.

“I know, but just… Rebellion has so many people, so many resources.” Stinger truly looked exhausted. “I’ve been in this fight since I was eighteen. And my family was involved before me.”

“Stinger… Jark Matter is gone.”

“I know,” he said again. “But there’s genuine peace in the galaxy, and I really want some peace and quiet in our lives too.”

“This isn’t about me getting hurt?”

“No, baby.” Stinger grabbed his hands. “That’s just… I mean, we always knew something like this could happen. It just made me realize this isn’t what I want.”

Naaga nodded. “This isn’t really I want either.”

“Okay.” Stinger kissed the back of his hand. “Okay. So we can look for a house.” He tried to smile, but looked a little wobbly. “I was looking at posts, and it looks like there’s a permanent job at the Rebellion training base here.” He looked wistful. “I could probably pick up some shifts in the robotic maintenance bay, train new cadets.”

“That sounds like something you would like.”

Stinger looked up. “Look, if you want to continue in search and retrieval—”

“No,” Naaga interrupted quickly. He smiled. “Tsurugi was telling me about a company that does robotics programming, but needs someone to work on graphic design. He sent them some of my art. They think I might be a good fit.”

“Are you sure?” Stinger looked tentative, unsure, like he wanted to have hope and believe that they could find some change in their lives, something quiet. 

And honestly, Naaga had never been more sure. He didn’t want to admit to Stinger, but they’d been rushing (and not following protocol) because they were so close to being done and Naaga just wanted to hurry up and be with Stinger.

“Yes,” he replied softly, meeting Stinger’s gaze.

Then Stinger was kissing him fiercely. 

Small steps. They were getting there.

\-------------------

The sun was just beginning to come up, transitioning the sky from pre-dawn gray to reds and oranges. Naaga exhaled sleepily, reaching over. The bed next to him was empty, but the sheets were still warm. Stinger had just gotten up. Naaga opened his eyes and rolled over. Letting out another long breath, he pushed himself into a sitting position and then stood up.

The house was quiet, storage bins still stacked around. They had so much more unpacking to do, and needed to get more furniture, but decided to take their time.

Naaga padded down the hallway and into the kitchen.

The house had been almost too good to believe. Naaga found the listing and contacted the realtor, knowing the place was out of their price range (but was in a location they were looking for.) The realtor recognized them as Kyurangers and asked about the recent Rebellion work. They’d answered, and Stinger pulled him close at some point, whispering, “This is perfect, but we need something cheaper.” Naaga kissed him, soothing him.

The realtor had come back, asking them their price range. Stinger named an amount that was a little lower than their limit. Turned out the seller had been rescued from a local governor, and once the realtor told her they were Kyurangers, she was practically giving away the house.

The master bedroom was downstairs, and they’d not even begun to figure out the rooms upstairs yet.

Stinger was easy to find.

The back sliding door lead from the small dining area behind the kitchen into the back yard. A flagstone patio was out there, leading into a grassy area and then trees (the entire area was pretty heavily forested.) Stinger was sitting on the edge of the patio, wearing only his pajama pants, bare feet nestled into the grass. He was watching the sunrise.

Naaga smiled.

They’d lived in the house almost a week, had new jobs for more than month. Stinger was calm, content, happy. Naaga had a warm feeling throughout his chest when he looked at him. This was what they’d wanted—all the dreams, all the talk, and now they could just enjoy each other.

He walked across the patio, sitting down next to Stinger. He rubbed his shoulder, bumping their knees together. Stinger turned towards him and smiled.

Stinger leaned forward a bit, kissing him, soft and sweet.

“Welcome home.”

\-------------------

“You hate ties.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you attempting to wear one?”

“I want to make a good impression.”

“You will make a good impression.”

Stinger irritably undid the tie and started attempting the knot again. Naaga brushed his hands away and then tugged the tie off. His expression was subtle, but he caught the exasperation. “You didn’t wear a tie to Tsurugi’s wedding, or Lucky’s. Or even Spada’s and Hame’s. You didn’t even wear a tie to our wedding. This isn’t you.”

He let out a long breath, allowing Naaga to put the tie back in a drawer. 

“Aren’t you nervous?” he asked.

Naaga shrugged. “Of course.” He closed the small distance between them, resting his hands on the back of Stinger’s neck. “But this is a formality. We can handle this. And then get on to the next stage of this.”

The next stage was waking up in the middle of the night to an infant that relied on them for everything. But hell, they’d wanted this. They’d been together for six years, married for five. The adoption agency was the most reputable in the universe, and Tsurugi had recommended them personally. The first video interview had been interesting, to say the least. The worker reviewing their application had apparently been excited to talk to Kyuurangers, and ones that knew the president of the Space Federation. She’d tripped over the questions, and Naaga had ended up coaching her through the interview. Now, one of the workers was visiting their house for the second and final interview.

Stinger kissed Naaga. He deepened the kiss, hanging on for more, taking comfort in the familiarity of the gesture. This was warm and known, and he loved that the gesture could be so comforting and, when they wanted, hot and sensual. He rested his forehead against Naaga’s when they broke apart, relishing the quiet moment.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Naaga asked softly. “We can delay a little. Or stop.”

Naaga looked earnest and also concerned. Stinger smiled. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” he murmured.

The look on Naaga’s face was so close to a bitchface that Stinger smiled more. “I am okay with this,” he reassured Stinger. “I read a lot of books.”

“Yeah, I’m glad you stopped that.”

Naaga sighed. “It was all conflicting and ridiculous.”

“It kind of is.”

“But I think we can adequately care for and raise a child.”

Stinger nudged him a little. “Tsurugi did accuse us of trying to keep his baby at the last weekend on Cayenne.”

Naaga’s smile was tiny as he remembered. “She was really cute.”

“She’s got her father’s sense of self-importance.”

That made Naaga laugh a little.

Stinger wrapped an arm around his waist. “Are we okay?”

Naaga nodded. 

The doorbell rang.

“Here goes nothing,” Stinger muttered.

\-------------------

“Carina,” Stinger coaxed the baby as she wailed. He bounced her a little, walking around the kitchen. She was nine months old now, and teething. She’d woken up in pain that morning and refused to eat breakfast, her crying reaching a fever pitch. They’d already put some of the medicine on her gums, and Naaga was trying to figure out if they could give her more.

Gods, seemed like yesterday she was an infant, literally hours old.

“Papa is seeing what we can do,” Stinger said, more for himself than the baby. He took a deep breath, rubbing the baby’s back. She had her face pressed against the juncture of his neck and shoulder, small fists clinging to his shirt. He could feel more than hear her crying right now.

Naaga came back into the kitchen, and Stinger had only been more relieved to see him twice before in his life. (When he got back from all the nonsense with his brother, and when they finally got Naaga back from Akenba.)

“We can give her more of the topical medicine,” Naaga explained, holding up the tube, and then added, “But we haven’t given her any of the baby liquid painkillers, so I brought those too if the first thing doesn’t seem to help.”

“Good,” Stinger said, trying to extricate the baby from his shirt. “Carina,” he started coaxing again. “Come on, baby star, we need to give you more medicine so you feel better.” And then he muttered under his breath, “And so you’ll eat.”

Naaga was leaning close, gently prying her hands from Stinger’s shirt. “Let go of Tou-chan,” he was saying gently. He looked up at Stinger. “She’s hungry too.”

“Yeah. I figured as much.” Otherwise, her crying would not have been this out of control.

Carina was a remarkably easy baby. She didn’t cry much, really only to let them know she was uncomfortable or needed something. She was happy, smiled a lot. Naaga had her (and by extension, them) on a pretty regular routine, so Carina got cranky when her routine was interrupted. She’d been very content at the latest Kyuuranger meet-up, this time on a wooded planet Tsurugi visited, in a large, luxurious cabin. She only got whiny when she was up past her bedtime, and she’d spent the day being passed around the adults and playing with her slightly older “cousins.” Luckily, Champ had been holding her when she started whimpering and knew she needed to go down for the night. (Champ and Balance were her godfathers, and she seemed to find both of them amusing.)

Naaga got her untangled enough that Stinger could turn her around. Her crying turned into practical screaming. Naaga looked truly distressed at how much Carina was fussing. His eyes looked a little bright, but he got through putting more of the topical medicine on her gums without breaking down in sympathy. (That was the hardest thing for Naaga—he hated seeing the baby in distress and got flustered to the point of tears when trying to solve what was wrong. He’d gotten much better, after Stinger explaining that as long as the baby was safe, she could cry and they could take time to figure out what was going on with her.)

Luckily, the second dose seemed to help, as she calmed down to whimpering. Stinger handed Carina to Naaga, and turned to the counter to get her breakfast. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Naaga hug her close for a moment, kissing her cheek, and then get her settled into her high chair. He smiled. For someone who grew up with no emotions or affection, Naaga doted on Carina.

As Stinger brought her food to the table, Naaga reached out to start feeding her.

The incoming video call alert when off on Naaga’s datapad in the living room.

“Get that,” Stinger said. “I’ll feed her. Then she can smash some crackers while we eat.”

Distantly, Stinger could hear Naaga answer the call.

Now that Carina’s pain level was seriously down, she seemed anticipatory about food. She was eating a combination of baby food and some solid food. Her favorite baby foods were vegetables and Stinger was immensely proud of that. (He had no idea what he’d do if they ended up with a picky eater.)

Naaga was talking to someone, but Stinger was focused on the baby. She grinned as he fed her a spoonful of carrot baby food, and then some dribbled down her chin. (Gods, this baby ate by osmosis.) Carina got through the baby food, and then the soft solid food he had for her. Stinger was cleaning her face and hands (how she got baby food on her hands was beyond him—she didn’t have the spoon), when Naaga came into the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” Stinger asked, catching the trouble expression. 

“That was the Ophiuchus System.”

Stinger’s head snapped up immediately. “What?”

“My parents want to see me.”

“What?”

Naaga and Balance had talked to Rebellion about the possibility of diplomatic missions to systems like the Ophiuchus System. (The Ophiuchus System told them no immediately, which had disappointed Naaga at the time.) Nothing ever came of that—the closed-borders systems were not interested and had not accepted any of the missions. Naaga had talked for a while about trying to set up a program for people who needed to leave, but, sadly, they had no takers.

“Did they say why?” Stinger asked, standing up. 

“They wanted to see me.” Naaga shrugged. “They heard I’m a Kyuuranger. They know I worked for Rebellion. Tsurugi went there recently and said I have a family now.” Naaga took a shaky breath, wrapping his arms around his middle.

Stinger pulled him into his arms, holding him close. “You left there eight years ago,” he pointed out softly. “And they’ve never tried to contact you. Why now?”

“I don’t know,” Naaga mumbled against his shoulder.

“Do you want to go?”

Again, “I don’t know.”

“When did they want an answer?”

“In a week.”

“Then you have some time to think about it.”

“What do you think I should do?”

“Baby, I don’t know. But I will support whatever you decide.”

Carina made a loud noise, banging her high chair tray. Naaga pulled away from Stinger, smiling at their daughter. Now that she had their attention, she grinned, chewing a little on her fist. “Carina,” Naaga said, exasperated. He pressed a quick kiss to Stinger’s lips.

“Get her some crackers to smash while I make us breakfast?”

Naaga nodded, but still looked distant, distracted. So Stinger was glad when he broke up the crackers that Carina liked. She was giggling, smashing the crackers into dust and shoving some in her mouth. Naaga smoothed her hair down, gently brushing some of the soggy crumbs from her chin. Stinger made a quick egg scramble and they sat down at the table to eat with Carina. Naaga had found her teething ring and she was chewing on the ring while watching them.

“Maybe I do want to go,” Naaga said softly.

He looked sad when he looked up, eyes bright. Stinger reached across the table and squeezed his hand. 

He was almost inaudible when he said, “To say goodbye.”

\-------------------

Dinner had gone terribly, to say the least. 

They had arranged all this in a system outside the Ophiuchus, which Tsurugi had seemed to think was best. They’d gotten to the planet the night before, and the room was nice—bedroom and living area. A crib had been included, but they’d brought a collapsible playpen that Carina had slept in before and decided to go with that. She went down easily, while Stinger sang to her and rubbed her tummy. Naaga had packed one of the blankets of hers that Stinger kept encouraging her to destroy—white with giant pink hearts, a gift from Raptor. However, he liked the orange striped pajamas—a gift from Kotarou.

Naaga had gone to lunch with them while Stinger took Carina to a nearby park. Naaga met them there, looking distressed.

“Didn’t go well?”

All he got in response was a long kiss.

“I need you,” Naaga whispered, voice low and husky.

“The baby goes down for a nap in half an hour.”

Not the sexiest pick up line, but Naaga kissed him again.

They got back to their room, put Carina down for a nap, turned up the volume on her monitor, and spent the afternoon in each other’s arms. Naaga hadn’t been kidding about wanting Stinger. He took his time, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to Naaga’s skin, opening him up slowly and carefully. He wanted to go slowly as they made love, but Naaga was not having any of that, urging him to harder and faster, until they were both spilling over the edge. Spent and satisfied, Stinger held Naaga close. Naaga was awake, fingers moving idly up and down his arm.

Stinger hadn’t realized that people with no emotions could issue thinly veiled barbs, but Naaga’s parents did a great job. Seeing people who looked like Naaga but weren’t was still a little jarring. Naaga had cut his hair short a few years ago, and the silver had almost all grown out. His parents and sister still had the silver hair, and his parents looked just a little older.

“What do you do for work now?”

“Graphic design for a robotics company.”

“That must be… fulfilling.”

They’d asked Stinger what he did—they didn’t care, but seemed to realize that including Naaga’s husband in the conversation was polite.

“I yell at eighteen year olds and fix robots.”

No one else asked about his job.

The final straw had been when dessert came out—some confection with strawberries. When Naaga politely refused any, his parents had given him a critical look.

“Naaga’s allergic,” Stinger had snapped immediately.

“How?”

No answer to that. Stinger didn’t eat strawberries either—they’d determined that Naaga would react if he was around someone who just ate strawberries. (By default, they didn’t feed Carina the berries either.) Naaga actually had started taking very low level allergy medication to combat symptoms if he was somewhere they happened to be.

At that point, Carina had been yawning and tired, and whimpering a little because her diaper needed to be changed. Stinger pushed back from the table to go change her and Naaga hurried to go with him.

Now, they were hiding in a bathroom.

“It doesn’t take two of us to change the baby,” Stinger hissed. “Why are we hiding in here?”

“You heard them.” Naaga sighed. “I have no idea what they want to accomplish with this.”

Not like they could necessarily read those people. so Stinger tried, “Your sister seems nice.”

“She hasn’t said one word,” Naaga replied, confused. Then he sighed. “I don’t know why she’s here. Although she’s twenty-seven now, she should have gone through the marriage process at age twenty-five.”

“Wonder why she didn’t,” Stinger muttered.

“It’s strange.” Naaga shook his head. 

“Maybe she’s the reason your parents agreed to this.”

“Aria is?”

That made Naaga quiet and thoughtful. They finished changing the baby. Stinger had made the olive green dress she was wearing, and the striped leggings were something Naaga bought her. However, he hated the glittery pink sneakers she was wearing. Another gift from Raptor. He only used them because it seemed silly to buy a baby who couldn’t quite walk yet a pair of shoes. Naaga found the whole situation with the shoes hilarious.

The handful of times they’d had Carina out past her bedtime, they’d learned quickly to wrap her in a blanket and then settle her in their arms. She would put her head on their shoulder, start sucking her thumb and go to sleep. (And then fuss when they had to put her back in her bed.) Back at the table, coffee had been served, and Stinger started to settle Carina in his arms. Naaga still looked anxious and raw, so Stinger transferred her into Naaga’s arms. He held the baby close, rubbing her back as she settled against him.

“Where is the baby from?” Naaga’s father asked.

They both looked up, blinking. “What?” Stinger responded without thinking.

“The child clearly isn’t biologically yours,” he continued, tone flat and unaffected. A shrug. “I was curious about her origins.”

Stinger was so startled by the question, he started to answer automatically, “Well, she’s—”

But Naaga cut him off with, “What does it matter? She’s our daughter!”

“Yes, but—”

“No! She’s ours. It doesn’t matter where she’s from. And you don’t need to know.” Naaga was looking damned angry. But he kept himself as still as possible, because Carina was sleeping. His voice pitched low, he continued, “Why did you even invite me here? Why did you want to see me?”

His mother said, “The space president told us he knows you and that you were a Kyuuranger and doing well. Curiosity is natural, is it not?”

“I guess,” Naaga mumbled, holding Carina tighter.

“In spite of everything, you are still our son.”

“It’s not like I can see you or communicate with you once you leave.”

“Naaga, that’s—”

“Do you actually want to see me after this?”

His parents exchanged a glance. His father spoke. “As per the regulations in the Ophiuchus System—”

“So no.” Naaga stood up. Stinger scrambled to follow him, grabbing the backpack they were using as a diaper bag for Carina. “Goodbye.”

And they left.

That night, Naaga had wanted to watch the baby sleep. Stinger finally convinced him to go to bed, but they laid awake for a long time. At some point, Naaga whispered, “I love you. I’m glad we’re together. I could never go back there.”

The next morning, as they were packing up, there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll get it,” Stinger muttered. Naaga had an armful of squirming baby.

He opened the door. And blinked again.

“Naaga,” he said.

Naaga stepped into the hallway and stopped. “Aria?”

His sister was standing in the doorway, holding a pack. She looked earnest, which was odd because Naaga’s parents hadn’t expressed any emotions at all last night. “I’m sorry about last night, Onii-chan,” she said softly.

“It was expected. Come in.”

She stepped into the room. She reached out towards Carina, but withdrew her hand. “I’ve never seen a baby before,” she whispered.

Naaga’s expression was unreadable, but he responded with, “Do you want to hold her?”

Aria nodded eagerly. Carina was having a good day with the teething, so she just looked inquisitive as Naaga handed her to Aria. Aria, on the other hand, looked utterly fascinated by the baby. “She’s beautiful,” she breathed, looking up at them.

“Aria,” Naaga asked quietly. “Did you encourage our parents to set up the meeting?”

His sister deliberately looked at the baby, and then nodded. “I put off the marriage process as long as I could,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “I’m working in the office of one of the Ophiuchus System diplomats and we travel a lot.” She took a deep breath. “I learned that you were out there and might be able to help me.”

“Help you?”

“I can’t stay there. I—” She inhaled shakily and tried again. “I learned about emotions, like you did. Started expressing them. And now, Jun, I mean…” She cut herself off. “I just can’t stay there anymore. I need to leave.” Her eyes were sad, a little desperate. “Please?”

“Of course.” Naaga looked decisive and happy. “We booked a private transport here, so you can go with us. You can also stay with us for a little while.”

“The guest room is full of boxes,” Stinger muttered in an undertone.

“I know. We’ll need to move them quickly when we get home.”

But Stinger didn’t bring things up further. Aria was family, and Stinger still valued family. The boxes were excess things that had been gifts for Carina, or things she would need when she was older. Moving them would not be an issue—there were plenty of places to store them around the house.

Aria waited in the living area as they finished packing.

“I’m glad she asked,” Naaga said softly. “I knew there were others like me.”

“Maybe the program will pick up some steam.” Stinger kissed him briefly. “She has a lot to learn.”

Naaga shrugged. “I did too. But this gives me hope.”

\-------------------

“Did she say why she wanted us to meet this baby?”

“No. Just that we might be a fit for her.”

Naaga listened to Stinger sigh, adjusting the tote bag over his shoulder. He nudged him a little as they made their way through the hallways of a hospital on Earth—not even a long way to travel. They’d known Carina was about to be born and traveled to the Andromeda System to get her. That was usually how these things worked, but this was odd. The baby was in a hospital only a few cities over from where they lived.

Carina was not quite two yet, walking unassisted and talking well. She was actually slightly ahead of average for development, still good natured and calm, in spite of impending toddler meltdowns. (Naaga knew a lot of that had to do with cognitive development and sense of self, but most parents simply warned them about the “terrible twos,” which Naaga thought was ridiculous of them.) They had been talking about the possibility of adopting a second child, had been on the “emergency” list with the agency since they got Carina. They’d never been contacted. Until now.

And the baby was so close. They might as well go see her.

The agent met them in the hallway. “She’s in there, sleeping,” she said after initial greetings. “Just stay with her for a while. No pressure. I’ll be out here.”

They walked into the room, and Naaga felt his heart drop.

The baby in the bassinet was only a few days old, if that. But there was no mistaking the silver hair that was unique to the Ophiuchus System.

“I don’t understand,” Naaga said, panic creeping into his voice. “The Ophiuchus System should have identified her and brought her back, even if she was born outside the birthing center. She’s from the Ophiuchus System. They should have claimed her by now.”

Stinger was frowning at the baby. She was swaddled tightly, and her little face was scrunched up in discomfort as she dozed. He reached into the bassinet and gently tugged the blankets away from her. As soon as the blankets were clear, an orange scorpion tail unfolded, tapping against the bed.

Naaga felt his heart stop. “What…”

“She’s not full Ophiuchus,” Stinger whispered, voice choked. “She’s half Scorpius.”

“I don’t understand how.”

Stinger looked up, sad. “I don’t either, but some of the scenarios aren’t pleasant to think about.”

Naaga agreed with that. “The Ophiuchus System didn’t want her because she’s not fully Ophiuchus.” A deep anger was curling up from his stomach.

Stinger pulled a blanket out of the tote bag. He had made so many traditional Scorpius baby blankets for all the children the others had, including Carina. No one really needed the blanket in two pieces with ties, but he made them that way in spite of need. And everyone loved and appreciated the gesture. Carina’s had been orange and bright teal with silver accents.

This blanket was made of fabric that was gray with silver sparkles, with orange and purple accents. Stinger gently moved the baby onto her side, untying the blanket’s ties in the middle and maneuvering the blanket around her tail. Once the blanket was in place, he tied everything securely. The baby settled into a much more peaceful expression, tail thumping rhythmically in the bassinet. Stinger smoothed down her hair, smiling. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

Stinger looked at him. He crossed the room to him.

“Naaga,” he breathed. “Baby, what’s wrong? You’re crying.”

Then he realized, yes, he had been crying.

“I just… don’t understand.”

“Naaga, there’s a lot of bad out there that makes no sense. Even without Jark Matter, people will still find ways to be shitty.” He threaded one hand through his hair, the other cupping his cheek. “But we can help her. So she doesn’t grow up ostracized and alone.”

He sniffed a little. “We’re not ready.”

“Carina just switched to her new bed, so we have a crib. We just need to get out the other stuff—we haven’t gotten rid of it yet.” Stinger paused. “Champ will help. He’s good at that.” He shrugged. “And then we just need to go to the store.”

“To buy a ridiculous amount of stuff.”

“Champ will do that. He likes shopping for the kids.”

“And then he will pay for it, and you’ll get mad and insist on reimbursing him, and he won’t accept the money and you’ll get huffy for a while.”

“What if I promise not to get mad at Champ?”

Naaga gently poked his side. “You can’t keep that promise.” He kissed him. “But call Champ.”

Stinger looked towards the door. “Where did that agent go?”

As Stinger walked towards the door, Naaga asked, “What are we going to name her?”

“What about Lyra?”

“I like it.”

\-------------------

“I’ve been on hold for thirty minutes.”

“Sir, we are attempting to locate an answer to your inquiry, but the wait time is indeterminable. Are you willing to continue holding?”

“Fine.”

Carina handed him one of her datapad markers. Naaga took the marker from her, reset the thing and handed it back. She continued coloring—they really needed to get her a new marker set. The things were terribly glitchy and did not hold up to a two-year old, no matter what the package said.

He was on hold with the Ophiuchus System, trying to find someone—anyone—to express his anger about them leaving behind a helpless baby, just because she happened to have bloodlines from two systems. He wasn’t particularly expecting them to do anything about it, but he hoped that planting seeds into someone’s mind might change things for the future. Lyra, like Carina and both he and Stinger, was officially a member of the Scorpius System.

Stinger wandered into the kitchen. He was only wearing his pajama pants, hadn’t managed to finish getting dressed yet that morning. He was cradling Lyra in one arm. She was whimpering a little and only wearing her diaper, so Stinger hadn’t managed to get her dressed yet either. This was the weekend, so not like they had anywhere official to be, but still. He was opening cupboards.

“What are you looking for?” Naaga asked him.

“The baby lotion.”

“It’s in their bathroom. Why?”

“Oh.” Stinger adjusted the baby in his arms. “Her diaper was rubbing up against the underside of her tail. She’s got a slight raw spot on her skin back there. I adjusted her diaper, but thought the lotion might help with the irritation.”

Naaga looked at the hold message, and then back to Stinger and the baby.

He disconnected the call, putting his datapad on the charging station on the counter (where children couldn’t reach.) He stood up and held his hands out for the baby. “I know where the lotion is. I’ll take care of her.”

Stinger handed over the baby, and then walked to the table. Carina, sensing a change in which parent was sitting with her, held out another marker for Stinger to fix. Stinger glanced between the marker and Carina, and as Naaga headed upstairs with Lyra, he heard him say, “Carina, how about I show you how to reset these?” Carina’s response sounded enthusiastic, even if Naaga couldn’t make out what she said.

The lotion was in a drawer in the girls’ bathroom, and Naaga took the bottle back to Lyra’s room. He set her down on the changing table—Stinger had done a good job folding down the disposable diaper to keep it from rubbing against her tail. Naaga gently applied some of the lotion. Lyra just made noises to herself, trying to chew on her fist. 

Lyra hadn’t cried at all when they first took her home. They’d had to set an alarm clock to get up and feed her in the middle of the night. She’d be awake and definitely uncomfortable, but not crying. Naaga thought that might be part of her Ophiuchus side, but he honestly had no idea. They’d honestly been relieved when she started crying, like she was finally comfortable enough.

He got her dressed in a t-shirt and some leggings with feet. Stinger had modified all her onesies and they occasionally put her in those, but separate pieces seemed to be the most comfortable for her.

Since the baby wasn’t squirming too much and seemed calm, Naaga sat down in the chair in her room, cradling her close for a moment. Her little scorpion tail tapped against his leg. (Stinger had said she wouldn’t develop poison until her teenage years, at least.) 

“Hey.” Stinger walked into the room. He’d found a shirt. “Carina is busy coloring.” He crossed the room, gently kissing Naaga. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugged. “I’ve just spent all this time mad at the Ophiuchus System. And I realize it doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything. I need to worry about my family.”

Stinger smiled a little. “That’s probably a good decision.” His thumb stroked his cheek. “If you change your mind, you know I’ll support you, right?”

“I know. I love you.”

“I love you too.” He paused. “The girls have eaten. Want some breakfast?”

Naaga felt himself smile. “Yes.”

\-------------------

Naaga tried not to panic as he carried Lyra and held Carina’s hand, bringing them through the hospital hallways. All he knew was that Stinger had been in an accident at the training center—another supervising officer had called him. Panicking, he’d called Champ, because he had no one readily available to watch the girls while he figured out what was going on. Balance was off-planet, as was Kotarou, and Spada’s restaurant was open (although he would have dropped everything to come get the girls.) Champ happened to be on Earth for a competition and agreed to meet him at the hospital without hesitation.

Champ was talking to the supervising officer who’d called Naaga. He waved immediately when he saw him and jogged down the hallway.

“Moo,” he greeted them. Lyra squealed happily when she saw Champ, clutching the cow stuffed animal he’d given her on her first birthday. She reached for Champ and settled into his arms with no issues. (Lyra had just turned two and was going through a pretty rough separation anxiety phase, so Naaga was glad she went to Champ without a fuss. She could speak in full sentences, but preferred to squeal around Champ for reasons no one could fathom.) Champ patted Carina’s head. “You’ve gotten even taller,” he commented, reaching out for her hand.

Carina looked up at Naaga anxiously. She was four and got worried about things that were outside her routine or experience. This fit both criteria.

He tried to put on a brave face.

“Carina,” he said, crouching down to her level. “I need you to be brave and go with Champ for a while. He’s going to take you two home.”

“Are you going to see if Tou-chan is okay?”

“Yes, baby star.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“I hope so.”

He drew Carina into his arms, hugging her close for a moment. She hugged him back and her expression was serious when he released her, lower lip trembling a little.

“You’ll be okay with Champ.”

She nodded, reluctantly reaching out to take Champ’s hand. Champ led them away down the hall, saying, “Moo, we’re going to have fun. Do you like pizza?”

“Yes!” Carina replied. “But can we not get as many vegetables on it?”

“Since it’s a special treat, why not?”

As much as Carina was Stinger’s daughter and would chow down on vegetables all the time, she definitely liked extra cheese and meat on her pizza.

Naaga watched them until they disappeared around the corner, lump in his throat.

Dread building, he turned to the supervising officer.

“What happened?” he asked, voice level, but shaky.

“An accident,” was the trembling response. “New environmental system. The controls were new and there was a one in ten thousand failure. Stinger saved most people before the tanks blew.”

“The tanks blew!” Naaga’s voice went up, heart stopping for a moment.

“We got him out, and he’s been in a pod.”

Naaga was about to ask for a doctor, when one of the hospital staff asked him, “Are you Naaga Rei?” He nodded, hands shaking. “Come with me. Your husband is out of the medical pod.”

He followed the staff member down the hallway to a room that, thankfully, was not in the Intensive Care Unit. His heart almost stopped. Stinger was laying on the bed, far too still. His skin was pale, but his breathing was steady and even. Naaga rushed over to the bed, taking his hand. He was okay. Naaga tried to swallow down the tears, but he was sobbing softly. He looked to the hospital person. “He’s going to be okay, right?”

“I’m Doctor Hayashi,” she said, face sympathetic. “The good news is that he will be okay, but it will be a process.”

“A process?”

“He was near the explosion and was thrown across the facility.” Naaga audibly sobbed, clutching Stinger’s hand tighter. “Multiple fractures, lacerated organs, but he did escape all serious head trauma, just a mild concussion. They were fast and got him here and in a pod soon enough.” Naaga tried to listen instead of cry, but nothing was helping. “He’ll be in pain for some time, and will need intense physical therapy for months. But if he follows the regime, he should make a full recovery.”

Naaga nodded, before turning fully to Stinger.

“This is a lot,” the doctor said quietly. “He’ll be awake soon. I’ll talk to you both then.”

The doctor was gone and the room was quiet.

He sent Champ a quick message, keeping everything high level. Stinger would be okay, but everything would take time. He got a response almost immediately. _Good. We’re at the house. I’m postponing my match. Take all the time you need._ Naaga told him he’d call the girls later.

Nothing else to do, but wait, Naaga pulled a chair to the edge of the bed. Eventually, he put his head down on the side of the bed, still holding Stinger’s hand, just waiting for him to wake up.

Hours seemed to have passed before he heard the quiet, “Naaga?”

“Stinger!” He scrambled so he was sitting upright.

Stinger winced a little, not attempting to move. His eyes were on him.

“Gods, everything fucking hurts,” he muttered. “Please tell me the girls aren’t with Balance.”

“Champ,” Naaga replied quickly, trying to wipe away the tears and inadvertently smiling. “And Balance isn’t that bad!”

“The girls come home sleep-derived and pumped full of sugar!”

Naaga was laughing and crying at the same time.

“Naaga,” Stinger was reaching for him, moving slowly. “I’m alive.”

“I know.” He took Stinger’s hand. “I love you.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Stinger’s eyes softened. “I love you too.” He winced in pain again. “Naaga, can you—”

“I’ll go get the doctor.”

As he got to the door, Stinger said softly, “Naaga?” He turned. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

He didn’t have any comforting words.

\-------------------

Stinger was quiet as Naaga drove the car home.

“I’m sorry,” Stinger mumbled quietly.

“I know.”

“Naaga, I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

“The doctor said things would get better. But you need to take the medication and you need to regularly attend physical therapy. You’ve only been doing one of those things.”

“I can’t walk ten meters without a cane and sweating bullets.” Stinger raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t even carry my daughters!”

“Stinger, it will get better. You just need to do what the doctor says.”

The accident had been a month ago. Stinger spent a week in the hospital and was released with strict instructions, including pain medication and physical therapy. Naaga had forgotten how stubborn Stinger was and how much he abhorred taking pain medication. He’d kept to the regime fairly well the first week, but the last two weeks had devolved into Stinger refusing to take the medication until he couldn’t stand things anymore. So Naaga had insisted on the doctor’s appointment.

The girls had adapted well enough. Carina was extremely worried about Stinger, and would start whimpering when she thought Stinger was in pain. He listened to her sometimes, but a four-year old calling the shots was getting ridiculous. Lyra had realized that Stinger couldn’t pick her up and that she couldn’t sit in his lap, so she would scramble onto the couch or next to him in a chair. She’d curl against his side, setting her stuffed cow in his lap.

“Promise me,” Naaga said quietly. “Take the medication. Go to therapy.”

“Naaga…”

“This won’t get better until you do.”

“I know.”

“Stinger.”

Stinger reached out and squeezed his knee. “Okay. I’m so tired of this. I will.”

Small steps.

\-------------------

Three in the morning. Naaga had to get up in three hours to get ready for work and then get the girls ready to go to preschool. Everyone had gone to bed on time. But then Carina had a nightmare (which had been happening since Stinger got hurt) and Naaga spent almost an hour coaxing her back to sleep. Then Stinger was still awake, in spite of the nighttime dose of pain medication. Stinger had waved away his concern, but Naaga made him some tea and eventually Stinger was fitfully dozing.

Then Naaga was wide awake.

This all felt like too much, like the walls were closing in on him. 

And he felt guilty for feeling that way. Since the girls came, they’d both had times where they were off planet, on missions. He’d never had a problem balancing the girls by himself. Why did he feel like he was drowning now?

Clutching his phone, he moved through the dark and quiet house, finding a quiet spot near the patio door. Sinking down against the wall, he pulled his knees to his chest. 

He could only think of one person to call who might understand.

He dialed Balance.

Balance picked up on the first ring. “Naaga!” he chirped, sounding wide awake. “It’s the middle of the night! What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, voice wobbly.

“Stinger? The girls? Everyone okay?”

“They’re okay.”

Balance was quiet for a long moment, before saying softly, “Naaga, you’re not okay, are you?”

“No,” he replied, choking back a sob.

“Naaga, buddy, what’s going on? Is Stinger being stubborn again?”

“No,” he repeated, starting to sob openly. “It’s just so much.”

“Naaga,” Balance soothed, saying his name a few more times. “Of course it’s a lot. Stinger was badly hurt and needs help.” And then he muttered, “Even if he won’t admit it.”

“He’s gotten better about the meds and physical therapy.”

“But he still needs a hell of a lot of help.”

Naaga was still crying. “But we’ve been away on missions. I’ve handled the girls and the house by myself before. I don’t understand why it’s so hard.”

“Because, Naaga, you’ve never had to handle the girls and the house and Stinger.”

“Wh-what?”

“Stinger hates it, but he needs a ton of help right now. On top of doing normal stuff by yourself, that’s really hard.”

Naaga furiously wiped away some tears. “I don’t have enough time to get everything done.”

“Buddy, you need to take a leave of absence from work.”

“I can’t. I’ve only worked there six months!”

“So? New legislation. Family leave—they are required in circumstances like what you and Stinger are facing right now.”

“I’m not sure.”

“Naaga, fuck the job! Your family needs you more right now.” He paused. “Worst case scenario, you just quit. I’ll help you, so will the others.”

“We’d be okay for a few months.”

“Yeah. And Champ wants to help.”

“What?”

His phone chimed with a transfer alert. From Champ.

“Balance,” he said warningly.

“Okay, fine,” Balance replied. “I’m multi-tasking! But you know that dumb cow android—he likes you guys and wants to help. Tell your husband not to give it back this time.”

Naaga counted the zeros in the amount and then counted them again. “It’s too much,” he said faintly.

“So? Put it in a trust fund for the kids, or blow it on a vacation!”

“Balance—”

“Just don’t let Stinger give it back.”

Naaga took a shaky breath, no longer sobbing. 

“Buddy,” Balance continued. “I think you know what you need to do here. You’ll feel better and be in a better place to take care of things, and maybe your husband won’t feel like he’s asking too much of you. I don’t know. You guys can get some normalcy back.”

“We haven’t had sex in ten weeks,” he muttered, and then flushed deeply.

Balance just laughed. “Someone’s keeping track.” A pause, and then, “I know it seems like the bad stuff won’t ever end, but you know it does. Trust me, I’m a lot older than you. I’ve seen some shit.”

Naaga sniffed. “Thanks, Balance.”

“Any time, pal.”

He heard a shuffling noise, and looked up. Stinger was leaning heavily on the back of the couch, looking at him with concern. “I have to go,” he said quickly. Balance said a goodbye and ended the call. Naaga stood up, knowing he looked like he’d been crying. “How much did you hear?” he whispered.

“Enough,” Stinger replied. He used the couch as a crutch, circling the arm and then sitting down heavily. “Sit down, please,” he continued. Naaga wrapped his arms around his middle and the moment of hesitation was enough for Stinger to add, “I can’t follow you right now, so please don’t walk off somewhere.”

Naaga just moved to join him on the couch, sitting close enough that their knees were touching.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Naaga said hurriedly. “You just… you are in so much pain and I didn’t want you to feel worse.”

“Naaga,” Stinger stopped him, reaching out and squeezing his thigh. “I know.”

“You know?”

“You’ve been really stressed out. Lyra asked me if you were mad at her.” Naaga felt his heart stop for a moment. “I told her you weren’t—but I still don’t feel well, and Papa has a lot to do. So I needed her to be really patient.” He shrugged. “Then she was just excited I was actually able to walk up the stairs and sing to her.”

His physical therapist had cleared him to climb the stairs twice a day. He took a little while, but the girls were thrilled because he could sing to them at bedtime again.

Stinger pulled Naaga forward and kissed him gently. There was such familiarity and comfort and warmth in the kiss that Naaga felt himself start crying again.

“Naaga,” his voice was soft and trembling. “I didn’t want to ask you to take leave from work, because I’m still afraid of how bad that means this is.”

“You’d probably be a lot further along if I’d taken leave in the first place,” he replied.

Stinger’s smile was rueful. “I think we both know that now.”

Naaga wiped away some tears. “I’ll turn in the paperwork in the morning.” He kissed Stinger again. “I love you,” he whispered. “We’ll get through this.”

“I love you too.” Stinger looked mournful. “I want this behind us.”

“Me too.”

\-------------------

The next morning, Naaga got home as Stinger got back from physical therapy.

“How did everything go?” he asked.

“Fine.” Naaga wrinkled his nose a little. “My boss was shocked I didn’t ask ten weeks ago.” He reached out to take his hand as they sat at the kitchen table. “I’m on leave for three months. I can extend it to six if we need to.”

Stinger nodded.

“The girls are at school until four.”

Not the best pick-up line, but Stinger smiled. “Not sure what position will work, but we can figure it out.”

In the end, Naaga realized this is what he had been missing. The soft kisses, slowly heating up into something burning and sensual. Touches that started feather-light and turned burning, dragging them as close together as possible. Eventually, they figured out the least uncomfortable position for Stinger was on his back. Naaga rode him and the sex seemed to last a long time, everything familiar and new, and so much that he wanted. Afterwards, they kissed lazily in the afterglow.

“Hmm,” Stinger hummed into the kiss.

“What do you want next?” Naaga whispered against his lips.

Stinger laughed a little. “This isn’t very sexy, but a hot bath and some pain meds.” He paused, and added, “And then lunch. I’m hungry.”

The bath was another comfort thing that Naaga missed. Stinger hadn’t wanted to concede that a bath would help, so they’d gotten away from this. Now, sinking into the hot water, Naaga was pleased that Stinger let him rub his back, massaging the sore muscles. When he got to the base of his tail, he tugged lightly and Stinger moaned a little.

“Bad?” he whispered, backing off.

“No, that was good. Do that harder.”

After the bath, they got dressed in comfortable clothes and went into the kitchen. Stinger asked him to get all the ingredients to make lunch out and he’d prepare the food on the counter. “Is that why all the barstools keep ending up in the kitchen?” Naaga asked.

“How do you think the girls’ lunches happened?”

“I thought they were buying lunch?”

Stinger smiled, kissing him. “You need about twelve hours of sleep.”

As Stinger prepared lunch at the counter, Naaga checked their phones, charging on the counter. He frowned. “We have four missed calls from the adoption agency.”

“Why?”

Naaga shook his head, dialing the number for their agent. She picked up on the first ring, and switched to a video call. “Thank goodness, I was afraid you two might have been on vacation.” Naaga was not sure how that would preclude them from taking a call.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “We’re not on the list anymore.”

“No,” she replied. “But we have a baby that’s a special case.”

“Special case?” Stinger asked from the kitchen. He slid off the barstool and limped over to Naaga. “What kind of special case?”

“We got a little girl from the Monoceros System.”

“Monoceros?” Stinger repeated faintly.

“She’s half human from Earth and half Monoceros.”

“Mika,” Stinger breathed and then walked out of the room.

“How old is she?” Naaga asked, looking after Stinger.

“Two days. She’s at a hospital a few cities over from you.”

He nodded. “We’ll call you back in a few minutes.”

Luckily, Stinger hadn’t gone far, just to their bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at his hands. “Stinger?” he asked softly. He sat down on the bed next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “We can’t right now.”

Stinger shrugged. “We’re both on leave now. And an infant would be well below the weight limit I can lift. I could start running again with her.” 

Part of the routine with Carina and Lyra, when they were infants, was Stinger going running with them. He would get them up in the morning, dressed and bathed, and then go for a run with them strapped to his chest. When they got back, Naaga would be up and showered, so he’d feed and burp the baby while Stinger showered. Quiet, peaceful. Then they would make breakfast. With Lyra, that was when they got Carina up and the three of them ate breakfast together.

“We’d have to put her crib down here for a little while,” Stinger continued. “At least until I get cleared to go up the stairs as much as I want.”

Naaga smiled a little. He kissed his cheek. Squeezing his hand, he left the room.

Sitting at the kitchen table for the next few minutes was calming. Adopting a third child was really not what either of them had in mind right now. Not with Stinger still recovering, and Naaga just now going on leave from work. They’d have no time to adjust Carina and Lyra to the idea of having a little sister. And yet, even with everything going on, they were actually in a position to handle an infant too. Stinger was right, he’d be able to lift her and handle her. The girls were in preschool Monday through Friday, but Naaga could change that to only three or four days a week. That would give them time to bond—they could take the kids to the park or museum or any of the other places they never seemed to have time to go. 

Stinger came out of the bedroom.

“We’re getting her, right?” Naaga asked.

“Yes,” was the short reply. “We’re naming her Mika.” Stinger wiped his eyes. “I sent you a list of things we need. Look at it and then send it to Champ. He wants to shop and then he’s coming here to help get things out of storage.”

“Do I get a say in any of this?”

At Stinger’s startled stare, he smiled.

“I’m kidding, Stinger. Calm down.”

“Don’t do that,” he muttered, and then added, “You’ve gotten so good at that.” He shook his head. “Call the agent back, and I’m going to tell her absolutely no more after Mika.”

Naaga nodded. Stinger walked over to him, kissing him softly.

This was okay. They’d be okay.

\-------------------

The day was beautiful—the sun was out, slight breeze, and blue skies. Carina and Lyra didn’t have school, so they’d packed up the girls and taken them to the park for a picnic lunch. Stinger was on a blanket with Mika while Carina and Lyra ran around the playground (after making Stinger promise to watch their stuffed animals.) Naaga was pushing Lyra on the swing for a while, before she decided to join Carina on the jungle gym. 

He went back to the blanket and gave Stinger a look—he had his tail wrapped around Mika’s waist, and was holding her in an upright sitting position while she babbled and played with some plastic blocks.

“She can sit up on her own, you know.”

“Only for a few minutes. This is keeping her sitting so she can grab the blocks.”

“You can put her in the carrier.”

“Then she can’t play with the blocks as well.”

Naaga sat down on the blanket. “You’re spoiling her.” He kissed Stinger’s kiss. Stinger smiled, and then caught his chin, turning him for a long kiss. 

“She’s only four months old. It’s fine.”

Mika grinned at them as she knocked two blocks together. Stinger had knitted her a mitten to go over her Monoceros arm, just to keep her from hurting herself on the rougher skin and horn. (They’d learned about the oils and moisturizers that would keep her arm healthy—Stinger had muttered that Mika Reetz must not have had access to what she needed.) The mitten did not stop Mika from grabbing and tossing whatever she wanted.

The last four months had gone by quickly. Mika had been a tiny baby, but was growing quickly. She was happy and giggly. Carina and Lyra had both cried as babies—Lyra had taken some time to get comfortable crying, but she did. Mika was a whimper-er—she rarely cried. She usually whimpered, which meant they had to have the monitor volume up.

The only decision left was where to work. Naaga didn’t really want Stinger going back to Rebellion and the training facility, and neither of them were all that thrilled about Naaga’s job with unpredictable hours.

Lyra dashed over to the blanket. “Tou-chan! Papa!” she chanted. “I’m hungry!”

Carina was on her heels. “What’s for lunch?”

Mika picked up her orange octopus stuffed animal and grinned. Stinger opened their cooler as the girls settled on the blanket. Naaga smiled. Stinger had done just about everything in his power to ensure that orange would be Mika’s favorite color—and Balance cashed in on that big time by getting the infant a bright orange octopus stuffed animal. Now Mika didn’t go anywhere without her octopus and Stinger was threatening death to Balance because people gave him sidelong looks because his baby had a thing with tentacles on it.

They’d figure things out.

\-------------------

The answer to their job question came later that week. Shou Lonpou came by their house.

“We re-built the facility,” he was saying. “Not just a training facility anymore—Rebellion offers so many services, we needed to expand. And no,” he waved away the protest Naaga was about to issue. “We aren’t using that contractor or brand of climate controls anymore.”

“So why are you here?” Stinger asked.

“To offer you both jobs, of course! Strictly nine-to-five, no additional hours required, generous leave options, two weeks paid vacation before you start.”

“Doing what?” Stinger was determined to be suspicious.

“Well, we have a remote search and retrieval program, and some graphic design needs, so Naaga would split his time between those two departments. And, Stinger, I know you’re tired of yelling at cadets, so I need you in the robotics bay and helping coordinate relief missions. Don’t worry, you’re not going on the missions—you’re just ensuring they have all the pieces they need before they leave.”

Naaga gave Stinger a long look. “Seems good,” he said softly.

“And that’s not all!” Shou Lonpou continued. “We have an in-house daycare and school. Fully certified teachers, after school programs, the works. You could eat lunch every day with the girls.” He paused, “But don’t take my word for it. Come down to the facility, take a tour, meet the teachers, I’ll show you where you’d be working.”

“We’ll think about it.”

But they both knew the answer was yes.

\-------------------

Stinger walked to the school to pick up Carina—and then they were meeting at Naaga’s office. (He’d already picked up Lyra and Mika.) The afterschool program was winding down as he approached. Carina had just started kindergarten and was transitioning well, in spite of some rough patches. When he got to the pickup point, he saw Carina was sitting on a bench with one of the teachers, and seemed to have been crying.

Carina saw him and jumped up, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back.

“What’s going on?” he asked the teacher.

She smiled. “Carina is okay. We were painting in art club—tempra paint, washable—and she spilled some on her dress. She was upset because you made her the dress.”

And, yeah, Carina was wearing the dress from her change of clothes. 

He nodded at the teacher, grabbing Carina’s backpack from her.

“Come on, baby star,” he said. “We’re meeting Papa and your sisters.”

Carina sniffled a little, but took his hand, brightening slightly with, “Pizza night?”

“Yeah, pizza. And seeing your cousins.”

Cousins was a loose term for it, but they were going to Spada’s restaurant. He closed on Wednesday nights, and they all came over. He let the kids press out and make their own pizza dough, and then add whatever toppings they wanted. (Since he and Hame had their own children, he was a lot less fussy about people making their own food.)

In Naaga’s office, Naaga was down on the floor with Lyra and Mika. Lyra was holding her cow stuffed animal and paging through a book. Naaga was holding Mika up—she’d just learned to walk and was still pretty wobbly. Mika grinned when they walked in. “Tou-chan!” she called. “Nee-chan!”

They joined them on the floor, Stinger kissing Naaga.

The future seemed shining and bright and beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, guys. Just wow. This fic has close to 3000 hits, 150+ comments, 100 kudos, and is close to 200k words. I did not think it would become this behemoth when I started a year ago, but here I am! I absolutely could not have done this without the support of all my awesome readers! Thank you to everyone who commented, especially my regular commenters. (I won't name names because I will forget someone and feel terrible.) But from folks keeping track of how often they shag to everyone equally as excited about the plot developments as me, all your comments made me smile and, quite frankly, made my day! THANK YOU SO MUCH!
> 
> Head over to tumblr for the abandoned chapter ideas, and some future Stinger/Naaga work from me.
> 
> Also, disclaimer: when Kyuuranger vs. Space Squad hits my sources, I can't guarantee that it won't spawn another chapter for this piece. :D


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